


Locked Up Tight

by TAFKAmayle



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Crimes & Criminals, Dirty Talk, F/M, Fairies, Hand Jobs, Jealousy, Just one feeling, Kitsune, M/M, Magic, Name-Calling, Nymphs & Dryads, Oral Sex, Possessive Behavior, Prison, Prostitution, Protectiveness, Rough Sex, Supernatural Elements, Vampires, Witches, feeling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-14 05:42:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 30
Words: 55,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28540509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TAFKAmayle/pseuds/TAFKAmayle
Summary: Though some may take the power they crave by force, intrigue, or deception, Jeremy Dooley AKA Rimmy Tim takes it through the use of the sexual desire of frustrated men. Once he transfers to the San Andreas Correctional Facility, he finds plenty of frustrated men exactly how he wants them: desperate for him. This he was anticipating, but what else he finds, he may not quite be ready for.TW: This fic contains a Ryan Haywood character.Dedicated to my patron saints Ky, Cali, and J, for encouraging me to go ahead with this story even when I randomly pulled the supernatural element out of nowhere. Your continued support is invaluable.Note about Rape/Non-Con: There is a non-explicit attempted rape that occurs in the first chapter (which is only addressed after the fact) and worry over non-consensual situations later on. Though nothing is described and no non-con actually occurs, the terms are used very blatantly, so please be cautious as you read. ❤️
Comments: 80
Kudos: 45





	1. Chapter 1

It was the first day since his transfer to the San Andreas Correctional Facility and Jeremy already felt a hundred eyes trying to fuck him.

“Rimmy Tim?”

Jeremy internalized a heavy sigh as he stopped. _Here we go._ He turned to the person speaking, subconsciously holding his food tray a little tighter. He’d been the justice system long enough to be wary of his food being taken or dumped. The one who spoke, a dark-haired man with a scar on his face, gave him an obvious look up and down.

“You’ve heard of me,” Jeremy muttered.

“Knew someone you... _entertained_ before,” the man answered.

Jeremy stepped forward, setting his tray on the table.

“Well?” He prompted, “Am I everything you imagined? Or haven’t you gotten a good enough look yet?”

He leaned toward him.

“Do you need me to do a little twirl?” He offered sarcastically, “Or perhaps you’d like to drop something for me to pick up?”

The man’s lips twitched and he took the spoon off Jeremy’s tray and tossed it on the floor. Jeremy snorted and turned to pick it up. He was pretty sure everyone in the room was watching him bend over. Certainly felt like it, especially when a couple people let out wolf whistles and cat calls. He turned and dropped it back on his tray. He leaned down and braced his elbow on the table and his chin in his hand.

“Well, what’s it worth to you?” He mused.

“You expect me to pay?” The man snorted.

Jeremy smirked at him and swayed side to side, essentially shaking his ass for everyone still watching.

“What’s it worth, fellas?” He asked, louder, “Highest bidder by lights out claims my first night.”

His smirk grew as offers were thrown out and the man’s face twisted into a scowl.

“See the thing is, unlike yours, _my_ ass has value,” Jeremy sneered, “And someone is always willing to pay.”

“Disgusting slut,” the man spat.

_“You_ approached _me,”_ Jeremy pointed out, “Doesn’t that make you the slut?”

The man absolutely hated that.

“You will regret this,” he growled.

“I guarantee I won’t,” Jeremy snorted, standing up straight, “But _you_ definitely will.”

He took his tray and moved on to an empty table. He spent the rest of the day being offered various gifts as he worked out, as he jogged out in the yard, as he read in the library, and as he ate dinner. He’d chosen his highest bidder and gone to shower when the man finally cornered him.

He obviously wasn’t expecting Jeremy to know how to fight. Possibly he also didn’t realize Jeremy’s wide frame wasn’t padded with fat, but with muscle. He probably thought outnumbering Jeremy would be enough as well, but Jeremy needed to be outnumbered by quite a lot before the opponent had an advantage.

Unfortunately, they got caught fighting. Several guards broke up the fight which really wasn’t fair since Jeremy was winning. They got them dried and clothed again and dragged them off toward solitary. Jeremy was annoyed he wasn’t going to be able to keep his date. Well, at least he hadn’t told the guy or gotten the gift yet. This way all his... _suitors_ would be mad at the douchebag rather than him. Which would be perfect for making him regret his choices.

Jeremy was led to the hole by a curly haired guard he didn’t imagine was much older than himself. He was cute, but his pale, freckled faced was twisted in a scowl. The expression sat on his face naturally like it was used to being there, almost like it was stuck like that. Jeremy sat on the bed in his new tiny home and the cute guard offered him something.

A handkerchief, probably for the blood on his face. Jeremy stared at it in confused bafflement so long the man crouched down in front of him. Jeremy just stared at the guy as he wiped blood from Jeremy’s nose and lips. _What the hell is happening??_

“Are you alright?” The guard asked gruffly.

“What?” Jeremy grunted.

“Are you okay?” The guard repeated, “You just, uh...had a...difficult experience, are you okay?”

Jeremy blinked rapidly. _Difficult?? That fight was a breeze!_ He took a few hits, sure, but it was hardly as bad as what he gave.

“Uh...yeah?” He muttered.

The guard folded over the handkerchief to hold it to Jeremy’s nose in case it was still bleeding.

“Did he manage to...do anything?” He questioned hesitantly, “I mean, should I take you to Doc?”

He obviously tried and failed not to glance downward and Jeremy’s mind clicked.

“You mean did he actually manage to rape me,” Jeremy guessed.

The guard nodded uncertainly. There was so little danger of that, that Jeremy hadn’t even registered it as a possibility, but yes, he supposed that _was_ what the man was trying to do. Why else corner him while he was naked?

“No, he didn’t,” Jeremy assured the guard, “Why do you care about my attempted rape, er...”

He looked at the man’s name tag.

“-Jones?” He finished, looking back at the man’s hazel eyes regarding him with concern.

“It’s sort of my fucking job to protect you, dumbass,” Jones grumbled.

“Gee, I feel all warm inside,” Jeremy muttered dryly.

Jones snorted, rolling his eyes and stood. He put his bloodied handkerchief in his pocket, to Jeremy’s surprise. He hesitated a moment, glancing at the door, before he pulled something from one of his other pockets. He offered it to Jeremy. A chocolate bar. _Ohh._ He’d been concerned for Jeremy being too damaged to be used. Jeremy’s eyebrows went up, but his surprise quickly morphed into delight.

“Usually it takes a bit more convincing with guards,” he mused as he took the chocolate and set it aside, “Also, I usually don’t give it up this easily.”

He pulled open Jones’ belt.

“Um, what?” Jones grunted.

“But you’re cute and I don’t have a lot of options in the hole,” Jeremy continued as he got Jones’ pants undone, “So I’ll accept this time, but you’ll have to be more creative if you want it again.”

“Um.”

Jeremy noted the man was shaved as he pulled his cock out, also noting he didn’t have any visible signs of STD’s. Which was nice when burying your face in someone’s pelvis. It didn’t take a lot of encouragement to get the man’s pale cock to harden fully in his hand, because of course it didn’t. Jeremy licked over the flushed pink head of it and Jones puffed out a nervous chuckle as he gripped at the shoulder of Jeremy’s shirt. Jeremy smirked as he closed his lips around the man’s cock, delighting in the show of nervousness. He loved making a mess of people. It was his favorite thing to do.

He pushed forward and Jones groaned lowly in his throat, his hands moving to push through Jeremy’s hair. He didn’t try to push him down or thrust into his face though. _Very considerate._ Jeremy rewarded him by deep throating him, shoving past his choking and burying his face in the man’s shaved skin.

“Oh, god,” Jones huffed, hands running through Jeremy’s hair a bit frantically, “Oh, fuck. F-Feels so, nnh, s-so good.”

Jeremy grinned as well as he could with a dick in his mouth. _Yeah, it does. Of course it does._ He pulled back, sucking his cheeks in and Jones let out a whimper of a moan, his hands tightening in Jeremy’s hair and his hips twitching forward. He clearly wanted to fuck Jeremy’s face, but was still respectfully not doing that.

Jeremy pressed at his hand, encouraging him to go ahead and Jones didn’t hold back. He gripped Jeremy’s head in both hands and thrust his cock into his throat, groaning breathlessly. Jeremy groaned right back as Jones used him like a fleshlight. 

“God, y-you’re a little f-fuckin’, unh, slut,” Jones huffed, “Y-You gonna get off on m-me using you, s-slut?”

_Whoa, hello. Someone’s finally awake._ Jeremy moaned, flushing hotly and shoved his clothes out of the way, getting his hand around himself to do just that. He came easily with his breathing restricted like that, eyes rolling back. Jones came a second after him and he swallowed around him, quickly getting the jizz out of his mouth and down his throat.

“Ah, f-fuck,” Jones groaned softly.

He pulled away and quickly dropped down to wipe up Jeremy’s face and hand. He opened the chocolate bar and pressed it to Jeremy’s lips which parted easily to accept whatever the man gave him. Jeremy smiled at the sweet taste of chocolate overtaking the heady taste of jizz and he spaced out a bit. 

“Mmm,” he hummed, “What a good day.”

“Even after fighting and getting put in solitary?” Jones scoffed.

“Sex and chocolate makes it a good day,” Jeremy insisted.

Jones chuckled.

“You’re easy to please, Dooley,” he teased lightly.

Jeremy grinned and nodded happily as he ate. Jones glanced at the door and tapped his fingers on his knee.

“You, uh, can’t-“ he started.

“Tell anyone, yeah yeah,” Jeremy interrupted.

_Let’s skip the boring dialogue please._

“You do this kind of thing a lot,” Jones guessed.

“A feel “a lot” might be an understatement,” Jeremy snorted.

“So then we could...do that again?” Jones prompted.

His throat bobbed as his eyes dropped to Jeremy’s lips. Jeremy smirked. _Oh, he is absolutely hooked already._

“As long as you bring me a nice gift,” he answered, lifting the small amount of remaining chocolate, “But better than this next time.”

Jones’ eyes went back up to his and he grinned devilishly.

“I dunno, seemed like my cock was enough for you,” he teased.

“Ha!”

Jeremy rolled his eyes and Jones laughed. He was adorable like that, eyes sparkling, face drawn up with mirth instead of anger. _Damn, he’s cute._ Jeremy would definitely be up for doing this again. _And again. And again..._


	2. Chapter 2

Unfortunately, Jones didn’t visit Jeremy the few days he was in the hole. It was dreadfully boring. After being dragged out and let at the showers, Jeremy reentered “civilized” society and was pleased to find several men offering their same payments from before he went in. Boy, are the guys around here desperate. But who wouldn’t be when someone as hot as him comes in, shakes his perfect ass, and shouts “come and get it, boys!”?

He was chatting and working out with one of his nicer, cleaner admirers called Sawyer, when he was approached by a tanned man with black hair tied in a ponytail at the base of his head and steely gray eyes. Interestingly, he had one streak of gray hair starting at his temple which had a small, thin circle tattoo in black ink. 

“You’re Dooley, yeah?” The man prompted.

“In the flesh,” Jeremy answered, sitting up, “Most call me Rimmy Tim though. And you are?”

“Marks,” the man replied, holding out his hand to help him up, “Vagabond would like to meet you.”

Sawyer choked and immediately backed away from Jeremy, sputtering out an excuse before nearly sprinting away. Jeremy frowned as he took Marks’ hand and was helped to his feet.

“Follow me,” Marks instructed, gesturing.

Jeremy followed him, stretching his back a bit as they went. _Well, I guess I’m about to meet the alpha._ He crackled his knuckles. Not the first time the top dog tried to make Jeremy his bitch. But Jeremy didn’t do that. Jeremy fucked whoever, whenever. He was not a one man sort of whore. Nor did he need the protection the man was no doubt going to offer. And they were always gross old dudes.

Hilariously, they passed Jones on the way who went pink when they locked eyes. Jeremy grinned and winked at him as they passed. Jones just scowled back. Jeremy felt pretty amused by that as they continued on their way, less annoyed by the alpha situation with Jones’ pink face in his mind. _So cute._

Jeremy was led to the library, to his surprise and to a man he was almost certain was the wrong one. Especially when the man stood to greet him at their approach, as though to be polite.

He was tall, practically _looming_ a whole head above Jeremy, with a long, light brown braid hanging over one shoulder and striking periwinkle eyes that regarded the pair of them coolly. His pretty pink lips were framed by stubble that Jeremy could already feel giving him beard burn between his legs.

“Mr. Dooley, yes?” The man’s bassy voice greeted Jeremy.

_Mr. Dooley. What the fuck?_

“Dooley or Rimmy, please,” Jeremy countered, “And you're Vagabond, right?”

“I think he’d prefer you call him Ryan,” a bored voice spoke up from the table.

Jeremy glanced at the source which was a possibly Hispanic guy near his age with short, coal black hair. He looked as bored as he sounded, his deep brown eyes observing Jeremy with bland disinterest.

“I don’t think they’re quite there, X-Ray,” a British-accented voice snickered to the other side of Vagabond.

Jeremy looked at the source of that voice and the owner brightened, waving cheerfully. He had tanned skin, a mess of golden-brown hair that hung over his ears and forehead, and big green eyes which sparkled with delight. He didn’t seem like he could be more different from the other if he tried.

“And who are you two, yin and yang?” Jeremy grunted.

“Brown and Gold,” Vagabond answered, gesturing first to the bored one and second to the excited one, “My... associates. Feel free to ignore them completely as I do.”

“Awe, Ryebread, I’m hurt!” Gold pouted.

“You may call me Haywood or Vagabond, as everyone else does,” Vagabond continued on, predictably ignoring Gold, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He held out his hand which Jeremy shook with a raised eyebrow. _Shaking hands. Weird choice for the alpha and the bitch._ Then Vagabond’s blue eyes seemed to go even chillier as he focused on Marks.

“You’re rather late, are you not?” He spoke in a tone as cold as his eyes.

“I’m sorry, he moves quick,” Marks grunted, ducking his head.

“See that you keep up better next time,” Vagabond suggested.

“Yes, sir.”

Marks moved on and Vagabond refocused on Jeremy.

“Please sit,” he murmured, gesturing at the seat across from him as he sat again, “I was hoping to work out an arrangement with you.”

“I’m shocked,” Jeremy snorted.

He hopped on the table and slid over, propping his feet up against the chair on either side of Vagabond’s knees. Vagabond raised his eyebrows at him, clearly not used to anyone getting so close, so suddenly.

“Okay,” Jeremy agreed.

“Okay?” Vagabond grunted, frowning at him, “I haven’t told you-“

“Don’t care,” Jeremy admitted, shrugging.

Vagabond sat back, looking confused and hesitant. And untrusting, his cool blues narrowed at Jeremy.

“I think you might call this win-win,” Gold snorted.

Jeremy hopped into Vagabond’s lap, putting his arms around his neck. Vagabond grunted, frown deepening in more confusion and surprise. It certainly seemed no one was ever so eager to be near him.

“So when’s first?” Jeremy asked, pressing closer, “We in a blind spot right now?”

“We...are,” Vagabond answered carefully, “But we’re not exactly alone.”

“Do you expect to be in prison?” Jeremy scoffed.

“Welp, I’m out,” Brown announced, hoisting himself up and starting to shuffle for the door.

“Don’t leave without me!” Gold huffed as he hurried to follow him.

Vagabond waited until they were out of sight to hesitantly focus on Jeremy. His hands were just as hesitant as he brushed them up Jeremy’s thighs. Jeremy watched the shaky hesitance of the man with a smirk. _You want it pretty bad, don’t you?_ Vagabond’s hands settled on Jeremy’s hips and he met Jeremy’s eyes.

“What...am I allowed to do to you?” He whispered.

Jeremy hummed, reaching between them to cup the man’s crotch. He puffed out a surprised breath as Jeremy groped his hardening cock.

“I can take that with some spit and a can-do attitude,” Jeremy assured him, “You can put it in my ass.”

Vagabond flushed the lightest of pinks and he sat up a bit straighter.

“I can do that _now?”_ He murmured, sounding hopeful and extremely horny.

_God, he’s desperate._ Jeremy took his right hand off his hip and closed his mouth around his index and middle fingers. Vagabond made a noise, a sort of strangled moan as he watched Jeremy suck his fingers, coating them in spit. _Someone’s not gotten much company, I wager._

Jeremy lifted up on his knees to push his pants and underwear down past his ass and opened his mouth. Vagabond got the picture quickly, reaching around Jeremy to finger him without Jeremy needing to say so. Jeremy hummed, pleased as the man pressed one of his long fingers inside him. He didn’t seem hesitant about that, at the very least. He wrapped his free hand around Jeremy’s cock and slowly jerked him off as he moved his finger in and out of Jeremy.

“You can go faster,” Jeremy assured him, “I’m used to stretching.”

Vagabond pressed the second wet finger inside him and Jeremy gripped at his shoulders. _That’s better. Now I can feel it_. He leaned forward slightly and moved his hips, thrusting against the fingers and moaning softly. Vagabond shuddered and he pressed his face into Jeremy’s neck, his breath puffing hotly against Jeremy’s skin as his lips ghosted over Jeremy’s pulse. He was getting impatient, but was still being careful with fingering Jeremy, spreading his fingers slowly and ensuring he didn’t hurt Jeremy by trying to force him open too fast. _Very considerate._

“Take your dick out,” Jeremy grunted.

Vagabond pulled his hand off Jeremy to push his waistbands down. His cock flipped free, pressing up to his shirt. Jeremy squinted down at it. Then he tugged at the man’s waistbands himself, looking around his cock, in his pubic hair and at his balls for visible signs of STD’s, though he was fairly certain the man hadn’t gotten laid in that century.

“What...what are you doing?” Vagabond huffed, confused and breathless.

“Checking,” Jeremy muttered, “I’m ready.”

He scooted back and dropped to the floor a bit awkwardly as Vagabond pulled his fingers from him. He put his mouth around Vagabond’s cock and pushed forward quickly, impatiently covering him in spit while Vagabond groaned breathlessly. Then he was back up, turning around to seat himself on Vagabond’s now slick cock. He held the edge of the table while Vagabond held his dick and Jeremy’s hip to assist in properly guiding it where it belonged.

There was resistance of course, but the right amount. An amount Jeremy enjoyed, puffing out tiny breathless ah’s as he slid down, ass fitting snugly into the man’s lap. He was burning up, body hot as Vagabond ran one shaky hand up his shirt and one down his thigh. He moaned quietly, muffled into Jeremy’s neck as he mouthed over the sensitive skin there. It had definitely been awhile. He sounded and moved so desperately it sent shivers through Jeremy who found himself suddenly impatient.

“I-I’m alright, you can move,” he grunted.

Vagabond’s hands moved to his waist and he lifted him. Without any leverage to move himself, Jeremy had to leave the job to Vagabond who didn’t struggle to move Jeremy. Despite how heavy Jeremy was, Vagabond lifted and lowered him easily. Jeremy leaned back into him, letting go of the table to run a hand up his arm. The man flexed, maybe subconsciously, as Jeremy reached his bicep. He definitely had more muscle than Jeremy had previously assumed, but of course way less than Jeremy. Jeremy smirked as he lightly squeezed his arm. Strong partners were perfect.

“Come on, you’re not gonna hurt me,” Jeremy coaxed, “Get to it.”

Vagabond’s grip on his waist tightened and he held Jeremy still as he thrust up into him. He was panting and groaning in Jeremy’s ear, hips slamming desperate and hard against Jeremy’s ass. Jeremy covered his own mouth to stifle the loud groaning and begging that really wanted to come out and his free hand went around his own leaking cock.

Vagabond came quickly, which didn’t surprise Jeremy and he hissed when Jeremy came, tightening around his oversensitive cock. He quickly fumbled for the tissues sitting on the table to try to ensure neither of them had any obvious wet spots. Unfortunately for him, that sort of thing was hard to hide with the material their oranges were made of. Jeremy, on the other hand, didn’t give a fuck what people might see drying on his prison-issued uniform.

Once their clothes were back in place, he turned on Vagabond’s lap to put his arms around his neck. Vagabond’s eyes were looking over Jeremy with appreciation, a pleased little smile on his lips and a more relaxed set to his shoulders. Jeremy smirked as the man pulled him closer, putting his arms around Jeremy’s waist. _Totally hooked._

“How often do I get to have that?” Vagabond hummed.

“How often do you want it?” Jeremy countered.

One of Vagabond’s hands ran over Jeremy’s thigh and he looked down as though to watch it as he considered it.

“Would...weekly be too much to ask?” He murmured, hesitantly meeting Jeremy’s eyes.

_What a polite criminal._ Jeremy felt the ache starting to settle into his pelvis.

“Alright, weekly’s okay,” Jeremy agreed, “That’s less than usual, but you fuck pretty hard. I wasn’t expecting that. Or any of this. You have defied expectations.”

Vagabond’s smile pulled higher on one side than the other, curling into a little smirk. He was a bit smug about defying expectations, apparently. 

“Then you enjoy this arrangement?” He prompted, “I take care of you and you spend time with me?”

“Nope, that part is stupid,” Jeremy answered, “I don’t need protection.”

Vagabond frowned.

“I know you don’t,” he assured him, “I have no doubt you can defend yourself. Discouraging others from attempting to assault or fight you isn’t about your ability. It’s about keeping you out of the hole.”

Jeremy leaned forward, grinning as his nose brushed against Vagabond’s.

“And in your arms?” He guessed.

“Yes, I can hardly have sex with you if you’re in solitary confinement,” Vagabond confirmed, “Anyway, the suggestion that I am protecting you is hardly enough for what you are providing me. Especially seeing as it is really more selfish motivation. I intend to take care of your needs and wants in return for your company.”

Jeremy pulled back, eyebrows going up.

“You’re gonna give me whatever I need or want just for weekly boning?” He scoffed.

“I would take more than weekly if I thought you physically capable of it,” Vagabond snorted, “But if I demand too much, you’ll get worn out too quickly and I won’t get much use from you.”

Jeremy laughed, pleasantly surprised by his honesty.

“Alright, I agree to your terms,” he mused, “But you are getting way less from this than I am, just so you know. You’re definitely getting cheated here.”

Vagabond looked down hesitantly, hand running over Jeremy’s thigh again.

“Then perhaps you could...spend time with me...outside sex?” He suggested quietly.

“You want a lap warmer?” Jeremy grunted, surprised again.

“No, you wouldn’t have to sit on my lap,” Vagabond dismissed, “Just nearby. Whatever is most comfortable for you, I’m sure you have preferences.”

“And if I wanted to sit in your lap?” Jeremy prompted, raising an eyebrow.

Vagabond cleared his throat.

“I would...like that,” he admitted.

“You know it tends to make you look less intimidating,” Jeremy pointed out.

Vagabond’s eyes were frigid when they met Jeremy’s.

“I don’t need to look intimidating,” he spoke lowly.

Jeremy’s heart fluttered in his chest and he could’ve swooned. Handsome, intimidating, and desperate for him. Exactly his type. He grinned.

“Well then, I think we have an agreement,” he announced.

He pulled back a bit to hold out his hand. Vagabond didn’t take it.

“Perhaps we could seal it traditionally... with a kiss?” He murmured.

Jeremy could swear he saw the faintest of pink blushes on Vagabond’s cheeks. _God, he’s adorable._

“Whatever you desire, boss,” Jeremy joked before leaning in.

He could hear Vagabond’s breath catch just before he pressed his lips to his. _Oh, you foolish man, I’ve got you right where I want you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So far Jeremy’s only made good decisions. Ahahahaha
> 
> Side note: All of my RTAH fics containing Ryan Haywood characters are now tagged as Original Work in an effort to remove them from the fandom which clearly has no room for them. As long as the character I'm using is based off of any character portrayed by Ryan Haywood, I will continue to use the name. This is for clarity's sake, in an effort to be sure a person knows before beginning to read, that the character will resemble the rl Ryan Haywood in some way.


	3. Chapter 3

When Jeremy woke up the next morning still vaguely achy he smiled at the ceiling. Vagabond was officially vying for one of the top ten spots in Jeremy’s sexual history. First of all, he was damn good, damn pretty, and damn well knew what he was doing. But more importantly, he left Jeremy alone afterwards. He had Marks make sure he entered and exited the shower with the same number of bruises, but otherwise left him be for the rest of the day.

A man who was intimidating, great at sex, very handsome, totally desperate for him, and knew how to leave him be. A total package. Of course that worried Jeremy a little. _He’s too good to be true. There’s something not right about him. Some downside I’m not seeing yet._ But well, Vagabond would make it known eventually he supposed. And when he did, Jeremy would handle it, no matter what it was.

He rolled off his bunk and stretched his back. His cellie was grumbling into his pillow about “go back to sleep, you bastard” and Jeremy chuckled lightly as he moved over to the toilet. He hummed pleasantly as he went about combing his hair and brushing his teeth and all the other tedious morning things then headed toward the cafeteria.

“Tim,” Marks grunted as he suddenly sidled up beside Jeremy, “I gotta get a list from you of anything you need or want Vagabond to procure for you.”

“Procure?” Jeremy snorted, “I’m guessing that’s his word, not yours?”

“Definitely,” Marks confirmed.

“I don’t have anything yet,” Jeremy answered, “I’ll let you know when I do.”

“Good lookin’ out,” Marks muttered.

He split off to do something else instead of continuing to the cafeteria. Jeremy wondered how much he had to do before he got to eat. Being someone’s bitch wasn’t always about bending over for them.

Jeremy entered the cafeteria and glanced around, curious if Vagabond was there already. He was, framed by yin and yang at a corner table. Gold was chattering and Vagabond was listening, nodding at whatever the appropriate times were. He looked vaguely annoyed, but Jeremy figured that was probably his constant state around Gold’s hyperactivity.

Jeremy noted with a pleased little smirk that there was a second tray sitting at an empty spot at the table. The spot in front of Vagabond. Jeremy had seen this before and thus knew the tray was for him, an offer. He started toward them, eager to accept the invitation from his current favorite admirer.

Brown noticed him and leaned over to tell Vagabond who looked at him then around at Jeremy. He sat up straighter, face smoothing out, clearly pleased that Jeremy seemed to be about to join them. And of course Jeremy was extremely pleased to have the man’s undivided attention. However, his view of the man was suddenly blocked as someone stepped in front of him. He raised his eyebrows at Jones’ scowl. Jones gripped his arm.

“Dooley, a word,” he growled, starting to drag Jeremy away.

Jeremy stumbled a bit in surprise as Jones dragged him from the room, down the hall, and abruptly shoved him in a supply closet. He closed the door and reached up to yank the cord for the light. Jeremy could preemptively feel his ass aching in protest, insisting it was too used at the moment.

“You’ll have to settle for-“ he started.

Jones gripped Jeremy’s shoulders and shoved him against the wall, interrupting him.

“Fucking Haywood, seriously?!” He growled, _“That’s_ who you chose?! Are you fucking insane?!”

“He chose me,” Jeremy offered, “Why are you so pissed?”

“Do you even know what he’s in for?!” Jones demanded.

“Do you know what _I’m_ in for?” Jeremy countered, raising an eyebrow.

Jones opened his mouth to argue, but stopped, looking away with a sigh.

“You’re right, that doesn’t matter,” he muttered, “What matters is now and right now he’s the most dangerous motherfucker in the building.”

He looked back at Jeremy with a less angry, more concerned look.

“Being his partner is playing with fire,” Jones warned him, “He’s fucking dangerous.”

“So am I,” Jeremy snorted.

Jones shook his head, giving Jeremy an exasperated look.

“I know you’re not a fucking dumbass, Dooley,” he grunted, “You know you can’t take on half the prison if he decides suddenly he doesn’t like what you’re doing.”

“You worried about me, Jonesy?” Jeremy cooed.

Jones let go of him, rolling his eyes.

“Of course I’m fucking worried,” he snorted, crossing his arms, “That guy is seriously dangerous. There’s something not right about him. Just...be careful, okay?”

_Aww. So protective. How cute!_

“Be careful so I live to blow you again?” Jeremy teased.

Jones’ eyes betrayed him by flicking down to Jeremy’s lips. Then he was leaning back in, bracing his hand on the wall. He hesitated with his lips nearly touching Jeremy’s.

“Is this...okay?” He whispered.

His breath was hot on Jeremy’s lips and smelled like coffee. _Is this okay? What, kissing me?_ He leaned back a bit.

“I-I mean, I don’t have a gift on me,” he muttered a bit nervously, “But I can get you one. I-I can bring you something at lunch.”

Jeremy grinned at his sudden desperation. _How adorable._

“Get your dick out,” Jeremy ordered.

Jones quickly fumbled with his belt and pants to obey. Jeremy wrapped a hand around his cock once it was freed and Jones shuddered, bracing his hand on the wall again. His eyes closed and he thrust into Jeremy’s hand.

“You been thinking about me, Jones?” Jeremy murmured.

“Y-Yeah,” Jones huffed, “Can’t stop. Want you s-so fucking bad.”

“Yeah, you think about fucking me when you jerk yourself off?” Jeremy pressed, smirking.

“Yeah, k-keep thinking about watching you ride me,” Jones muttered breathlessly.

He suddenly gripped a handful of Jeremy’s ass and leaned even closer, pressing his lips to Jeremy’s ear. His hips were moving quickly, fully fucking into Jeremy’s hand now.

“W-Watchin’ you bounce your f-fat ass on my-my cock like a g-good little slut,” he growled in Jeremy’s ear.

Heat flooded Jeremy’s body and he groaned breathlessly. Jones’ hand left the wall to reach into Jeremy’s underwear and his mouth clumsily shoved over Jeremy’s as they jerked each other off. Jones came first because he wasn’t very good at handjobs, but he did seem to get the hang of it quickly. Jeremy moaned into his mouth as he came before Jones’ jizz had cooled in his hand.

Jones pressed his face in Jeremy’s neck as they caught their breath. Then he pulled back to clean them up with a handkerchief again.

“What’s with you and handkerchiefs?” Jeremy wondered, “You’re like an old man.”

“It’s just a habit at this point,” Jones grunted, “But it’s finally fucking useful.”

He held up the jizz-covered cloth.

“Yeah, I guess it is,” Jeremy snorted.

They got themselves back in order and Jones brushed his hand through Jeremy’s hair to flatten it back where it belonged.

“I’m sure no one will notice,” Jeremy joked.

“I fucking hope not,” Jones grumbled, “I like my damn job.”

“Bet you like it even more recently,” Jeremy teased.

Jones blushed, looking away.

“Maybe a bit more,” he mumbled.

Jeremy almost cooed “awww” out loud. Jones cleared his throat and refocused on Jeremy, his eyes suddenly burning.

“Listen, if that fucker hurts you,” he growled, “You can tell me. I’ll make sure he fucking regrets it, so you don’t end up in trouble for it.”

Jeremy’s heart fluttered. _So cute, so fierce, so protective. Like a loyal little knight._ Jeremy was lucky he didn’t drop into Jones’ arms with a dreamy sigh.

“Don’t worry about lil’ ol’ me, Jonesy,” he joked, “I’m a big boy.”

Jones grinned.

“Yeah, you are,” he laughed.

“And you fucking love this wide load,” Jeremy teased.

Jones hummed, amused as he turned out the light then he got another handful of Jeremy’s ass before he opened the door. He looked around and muttered one last “be careful” as they parted ways. Jeremy made his way back to the cafeteria, definitely not with a pep in his step and started heading back for Vagabond’s table again. This time Marks was there, standing beside Vagabond, bent to talk in his ear while Vagabond’s head was turned to listen. There were also more people at the table than before Jeremy got dragged into a closet.

It was Brown again that noticed him and commented. Vagabond looked around at Jeremy, but his face was a mask. Jeremy had no idea what he was thinking or feeling. None of his usual micro expressions were present. But he still stood when Jeremy stopped at the table which went quiet.

“Mr. Dooley, it’s a pleasure to see you again,” he greeted, “Would you care to sit with me?”

He gestured at the tray across from him where there was still empty space. Jeremy raised an eyebrow at the tray then pushed it toward Vagabond. The table seemed to tense at that and Vagabond’s lips twitched downward. The table didn’t get any less tense at his reaction, in fact they were almost bracing themselves from his disappointment.

“Very well,” he murmured, sitting back down.

Jeremy rounded the table and sat between him and Gold, much closer to Vagabond than anyone was sitting next to anyone else at the table. Vagabond jumped a little, surprised again with Jeremy’s lack of hesitation, but turned slightly toward him, seeming to indicate he was okay with this. The table practically breathed a collective sigh of relief and began speaking among themselves again. Jeremy started eating his food, which was definitely cold now, but oh well.

“Marks said you had no requests,” Vagabond muttered, “But surely there’s something you can think of?”

“Not really,” Jeremy answered, shrugging, “I’ll let you know as soon as I do.”

“Well, please feel free to request anything,” Vagabond assured him, “We will do our best, within reason.”

He turned back to his food, though he didn’t begin eating.

“I would hate for our arrangement to be unsatisfactory to you,” he added in a cooler tone.

_Ah._ Jeremy connected the dots. Marks had apparently been following him again and heard the little incident in the closet. He relayed the information to Vagabond who was clearly not happy about it. _Jealousy. How adorable._ Why was he bothering to pretend not to be upset though? Vagabond paused suddenly and turned back toward Jeremy, his eyebrows coming together. He leaned closer to Jeremy.

“I...just want to be certain,” he spoke quietly, so only Jeremy could hear him, “That _was_ consensual?”

“Completely,” Jeremy answered.

Vagabond’s look of worry cleared and he nodded, turning back toward his food.

“Be sure to let me know if you _are_ being harassed,” he spoke firmly, “I will have it dealt with, guard or prisoner.”

_He’s the most dangerous motherfucker in the building._

_Building,_ Jones had said. Not the most dangerous one locked up, the most dangerous one in the _building._ _Oh boy. He is the downside, isn’t he?_ Too bad Jeremy apparently thought scary people were dreamy. Definitely he shouldn’t have shifted closer to the man, but he did, pressing their legs together as he frowned at his empty tray. Vagabond shifted to put his arm behind Jeremy so their elbows wouldn’t knock together.

“You’re still hungry?” He guessed.

Jeremy leaned over and stole a bite off his tray, grinning at him like the little shit he was. Vagabond made no expression as he pushed the tray closer to him so he could reach it better. Jeremy’s grin widened.

“Thank you!” He chirped, “I’ll thank you properly later.”

He lifted his fist up to his open mouth and moved it back and forth with a choking sound. Gold choked on laughter and the rest of the table stifled snorts. Vagabond made no visible reaction to this.

“Please finish eating,” he muttered, “I have somewhere to take you.”

“Whatever you desire, boss,” Jeremy answered cheerfully as he went back to eating.

He chose not to comment on the fact Vagabond’s arm had settled around his waist. It seemed clear to him that the presence of his people made Vagabond go a bit cold. He wasn’t going to point out anything that might make Vagabond go even more frigid, he was freezing enough as it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s the simple things, like handjobs and jealousy, that really make a fic special.


	4. Chapter 4

Vagabond led Jeremy to a cell, his apparently.

“You are welcome at any time,” he murmured as he stepped inside and moved aside, “Should you need some place safe.”

He swept a hand out as though to invite Jeremy in.

“So formal,” Jeremy snorted as he stepped inside, “You had your dick in me, you can relax, buddy.”

“I am perfectly relaxed,” Vagabond grumbled.

“Uh-huh,” Jeremy grunted, rolling his eyes as he stepped further in the cell.

It was pretty bare. The only real “feature” that might make it different from any other cell was the stack of books on the table, including some notebooks. Jeremy sat on the bottom bunk, which he assumed was Vagabond’s. Vagabond sat beside him and Jeremy looked around, wondering where his contraband stash was.

“Dooley, what do you do with your free time?” Vagabond questioned.

“Work out mostly,” Jeremy admitted, leaning back to check under the top bunk, “Run. Play cards. Stare at walls in existential dread. Chess, if I’m feeling smart. Draw. The usual stuff.”

He felt under the top mattress, above the frame.

“What are you doing?” Vagabond wondered.

“Looking for contraband obviously,” Jeremy snorted, “Where’s your stash? Toilet?”

“Ah.”

Vagabond turned toward Jeremy and leaned sideways to the wall. Jeremy watched curiously as he pulled a string he hadn’t noticed hanging from the wall and a sort of false bottom type panel pulled away from the wall. Where a brick definitely should be, was instead a small box, a stack of letters, a few pencils, and a few other random contraband items including whiskey and cigarettes. 

“Whoa, fancy,” Jeremy murmured, “You must’ve been here for awhile to rig this up.”

“Indeed,” Vagabond muttered, “You’re welcome to anything but the letters and the box.”

“What’s in the box?” Jeremy asked, peeking into the hole.

“Paint,” Vagabond grunted.

“Paint?” Jeremy repeated, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Paint,” Vagabond confirmed, closing the panel back, “We’re getting off topic. You draw, you said. What do you draw?”

“Just whatever I think of,” Jeremy answered, shrugging, “Why are you interrogating me?”

“I just want to know more about you,” Vagabond murmured.

He tapped his fingers on his knee, looking like he was preparing to say something. _Oh, boy._

“I do not mean to meddle in your personal affairs,” he began.

_ Here it comes. _

“But Marks was following you earlier,” he continued.

_Nooo, really??_

“To ensure Jones had no ill intent,” he explained, “And completely unintentionally overheard the...encounter in the supply closet.”

“Did he get off too?” Jeremy muttered dryly.

Vagabond gave him a very unamused look.

“Spit out what you’re trying to say already,” Jeremy grunted, annoyed.

Vagabond’s mouth twisted and he sighed.

“I want to know the nature of your relationship with him,” he admitted.

“The nature of my relationship with everyone,” Jeremy answered.

He lifted his fist to his open mouth as he started to make the blowjob motion again, but Vagabond put his hand on his, pushing it down.

“Yes, I gathered that much,” he grumbled, “So you...service him in return for what then?”

“Chocolate while I was in solitary,” Jeremy admitted, “Usually I don’t give it up so easily, but it was solitary. Didn’t have a lot of options.”

“And earlier?” Vagabond prompted.

“He promised to bring me something at lunch,” Jeremy mused, “Probably more food if I had to guess.”

_He does seem to like my fat ass. Probably wants to encourage that._

“And what did he get in return?” Vagabond pressed.

“Blowjob the first time, handy the second,” Jeremy snorted, “You’re interrogating me again. Just tell me what the problem is already.”

“I think you should know, he’s very new,” Vagabond blurted, “Green, I mean. I’m sure he’s very naive and inexperienced. I would not think him very fitting for someone as experienced and...talented as you.”

Jeremy grinned at him. 

“You’re so jealous,” he laughed, “It’s seriously adorable.”

Vagabond tinted pink.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he huffed, “I have nothing to be jealous of. He’s just a naive boy. And boys like him are fickle too, you know. He’ll probably change his mind quickly.”

He straightened his shirt suddenly, clearing his throat.

“I have lived far too long to be bothered by a mere boy,” he concluded coolly, “And I am _not_ adorable.”

Jeremy wanted to pinch his cheeks he was so adorable. He put his arms around Vagabond’s neck, grinning up at him.

“Come on now, be honest,” he coaxed, “I may reward you if you tell the truth. You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

Vagabond hummed, annoyed and looking like he wanted that reward, but didn’t want to admit he was jealous. He finally sighed.

“I am trying not to be,” he grumbled, “But I want...”

He hesitantly put his hands on Jeremy’s waist, rubbing his thumbs over his sides.

“I want whatever you give him,” he muttered, sounding a touch bitter, “I feel like a petulant child, wanting to demand I be treated the same or even better, despite giving you no reason to do so. But I could. I will. If you would just tell me what you want, I-“

Jeremy kissed him, interrupting the beginnings of a desperate ramble. Vagabond grunted in surprise and Jeremy pulled back just as quick.

“Wh...Why?” Vagabond wondered.

“You said you wanted everything he got, didn’t you?” Jeremy mused, “We kissed quite a bit in that closet.”

Vagabond cleared his throat, eyes dropping to Jeremy’s lips.

“Then...am I allowed what he is?” He murmured.

Jeremy smirked as he pressed closer.

“You want me to give you everything I gave him?” He whispered lowly.

Vagabond swallowed, seeming to catch the implication behind the lowering of Jeremy’s tone and nodded. Jeremy pressed their lips together again, but this time parted his own immediately, encouraging Vagabond to do the same. Vagabond puffed out a shaky breath as his lips parted and his arms reeled Jeremy in. His shaky hands pushed up Jeremy’s shirt, squeezing lightly and running around and up his back. He was eager, but still very hesitant, unsure what he was allowed to do when. _So adorable._

Jeremy shifted and pressed him back onto the bed. He went easily, laying back and letting Jeremy get between his legs. He was already completely hard by the time Jeremy reached a hand between them, rubbing his palm over his cock. He shuddered, moaning softly into Jeremy’s mouth. 

Jeremy smirked as he pulled up. You are so easy to break down. Vagabond looked about as disheveled as Jeremy imagined he possibly could look. He was flushed that pretty light pink, blue eyes dark with desire, and his lips darkened almost red from Jeremy’s kissing. He was watching Jeremy closely, carefully, and with desperation in his eyes. Like he could only see Jeremy and that it was the only thing he _wanted_ to see. Jeremy felt himself flush from his attention as he shifted, scooting back.

He pulled Vagabond’s pants and underwear down enough to let his cock flip free as he shimmied down his body. Vagabond lifted onto his elbows to watch him and Jeremy’s smirk widened as he leaned down to run his tongue up Vagabond’s shaft. Vagabond made a little whimpering noise and his thighs twitched inward. _It is seriously unfair how hot and desperate you are._

Jeremy closed his mouth around him and Vagabond’s hands tightened into fists in his mattress. Jeremy sank down about halfway and Vagabond’s hips twitched up. He groaned breathlessly as Jeremy choked, his throat squeezing around his cock. Jeremy quickly pushed down further, swallowing and pushing past his gagging until Vagabond’s cock was buried fully in his throat. 

He held a moment, letting Vagabond pant and moan softly a moment as he struggled on his cock. Then he was moving, wrapping his hand around Vagabond as he slid his mouth back up, sucking his cheeks in as he went. He moved his mouth and hand together, quickly working Vagabond toward orgasm while he trembled below him. He was egged on by Vagabond’s steady gaze and his desperate little moans as he tensed. 

“‘M gonna c-come,” he huffed, breathlessly trying to warn Jeremy, “Nnh, f-fuck. Fuck fuck _fuck!”_

The last “fuck” came out sharper and his hips jerked up into Jeremy’s face as he came into his mouth and throat. He dropped against the bed, panting as Jeremy swallowed down his jizz and pulled off him. He got up and grabbed some toilet paper to somewhat wipe spit from the two of them before opening Vagabond’s stash to snag a gulp of whiskey. 

He took a healthy swig and shuddered, putting it back as Vagabond got himself upright. He gripped at Jeremy’s shirt, yanking him close to put his arms around him. _Right, he’s a bit of a cuddler,_ Jeremy recalled. Except he didn’t just cuddle up to Jeremy, he also started to slip his hand into Jeremy’s pants. Jeremy gripped his wrist, pulling his hand away. Vagabond made a displeased noise.

“You said you would give me what he had,” he grumbled.

“Hm, did I?” Jeremy hummed, raising an eyebrow at him, “As I recall, I simply asked if that’s what you wanted.”

Vagabond opened his mouth to argue, but closed it again, looking away. He seemed to be recalling what was said and realizing Jeremy was right. He looked back to Jeremy, lips twitching upward.

“You’re quite the clever little siren, aren’t you, Rimmy Tim?” He mused, eyes sparkling.

_Does it take a very clever person to exploit such a desperate man?_

“I’d like to think so,” Jeremy answered, grinning.

Vagabond leaned forward and took his face in one hand, tilting his head to kiss him lightly. Jeremy didn’t stop grinning against his mouth. _Oh, you are so fucked, buddy._

~

Jeremy was already eating beside Vagabond by the time Jones found him. 

“Dooley,” he greeted gruffly.

Vagabond shifted slightly closer to Jeremy, eyes cold as steel on Jones and Jones’ were hot as fire on him. 

“Heya, Jonesy,” Jeremy chirped, “What’d you bring me?”

Jones put a small plate in front of Jeremy and took a napkin off it to show it was a slice of cheesecake. Jeremy straightened up, clapping his hands together and bouncing a bit in his seat. Jones smiled softly at him.

“Good choice then?” He chuckled lightly.

Jeremy would’ve answered immediately, but he was already stuffing the first bite in his mouth. 

“So good!” He groaned around the bite, “It’s been forever!”

Jones grinned, throwing a smug look at Vagabond who practically radiated annoyance with him. The table was getting wound up, tensing. Jeremy scooped a bite of the cheesecake and held it up to Vagabond.

“Here, I’ll share with you,” he offered lightly.

Vagabond’s face softened and he opened his mouth to accept the bite. Jones was glaring when Jeremy turned back ahead and now Vagabond was the smug one. Jeremy rolled his eyes. _Idiots._

“Shouldn’t you be doing your job, Jones?” Vagabond sneered.

“Great idea, Haywood,” Jones fired back, “Maybe I should search you for contraband.”

“I don’t think you want to go down that road, boy,” Vagabond answered coldly.

“Don’t I?” Jones snorted, “Isn’t it my fucking job, _old man?”_

“Excuse me, Rimmy Tim?” A light voice cut in, drawing everyone’s attention.

Jeremy raised an eyebrow up at the man in oranges as he grinned down at him. He had a cute grin and pretty blonde hair that fell in waves he’d tucked behind his ears. His caramel brown eyes seemed to dance with mischief as he waved a hand in greeting.

“Can I help you?” Jeremy grunted.

“I hope so,” the man answered cheerfully, “I’m West.”

He leaned over the table slightly to hold out his hand to Jeremy who noted the tattoo of an ace of hearts on his forearm before gripping it.

“Well, as you know, most call me Rimmy,” he returned as they shook hands, “Nice to meet you.”

“You as well,” West answered as they withdrew, “I’m a bit of a card player, I’ve been hoping to find a good partner to play with. You seem like just the type of charismatic man I’m looking for. Come to the rec room after dinner if you’d like to play.”

“I’ll think about it,” Jeremy assured him.

“Hope to see you there!” West chirped before tottering off.

Jeremy turned back to Jones and Vagabond whose searing and frigid gazes were now locked on to West. 

“Anyway, you two done being idiots?” He grumbled, “Or shall I just tell you whose dick is bigger?”

Gold choked on laughter and Brown let out a sharp “ha!” Meanwhile, the rest of the table was tense again and the two idiots in question were blushing. 

“You are right,” Vagabond muttered, “I should not engage in such juvenile banter.”

Jones’ fists clenched at his sides.

“Whatever, I’ll see you later, Dooley,” he grumbled before storming off.

Jeremy sighed. _You sure know how to pick ‘em, Dooley._ But he _did_ get cheesecake, so the situation wasn’t a total loss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ry’s character is a bit difficult to get right in this one. 😅


	5. Chapter 5

Vagabond wasn’t at dinner, but Jeremy’s tray was at the table between Gold and Brown, so he went to sit with them anyway. As soon as he sat, giving a cheerful wave to the table, Gold and Brown slid closer to him. He wasn’t a huge fan of being flanked, but what can you do?

“Alright, fess up, what’re you after?” Gold demanded, pointing his spoon at Jeremy.

“Are you...threatening me with a spoon right now?” Jeremy asked around a bite of his food.

“Anything can be a deadly weapon if wielded by a dangerous person!” Gold protested.

“Then what the fuck are _you_ gonna do with it?” Brown wondered.

Jeremy laughed as Gold whined at him.

“X-Ray, united front!” He huffed, “We’re interrogating the suspect!”

“Doing a pretty poor job of it,” Jeremy snorted.

“Hush you!” Gold hissed, “Just tell us what you want!”

“Ice cream,” Jeremy admitted.

“No, seriously!” Gold insisted, “Why are you all over Ryebread? What’s your plan? Did someone send you?”

“Send me?” Jeremy grunted, “What, you think I’m in a gang? Or I’m some secret agent?”

“Are you?” Gold countered, eyes narrowing.

“Does that sort of thing happen to Vagabond a lot?” Jeremy wondered.

“More that you’d probably think,” Brown answered. 

_ Oh boy. _

“Ry doesn’t usually fall for it though,” Gold grumbled, finally giving up on threatening Jeremy with the spoon, “You’re the first person he’s expressed interest in, in...well, ever, really.”

Jeremy had to smirk a bit at that. _Of course. Everyone expresses interest in me._

“Why’d you agree so easily?” Brown prompted, “You threw yourself on him.”

“He’s hot?” Jeremy offered, “You telling me you haven’t thought about it?”

He raised an eyebrow at Brown who shrugged one shoulder.

“I’m not very into that stuff,” he admitted, “Bet Vav has though.”

“I have _not_ thought about Ry like that!” Gold squawked, blushing brightly, “I-I would never! D-Don’t be ridiculous! He’s not my type at all!”

“He’s definitely thought about it,” Brown muttered.

“Sh-Shut up!” Gold hissed, “I have not!”

“He has,” Jeremy agreed.

“Wh-Whatever!” Gold huffed, “E-Even if I had, it’s-it’s not like I would do him!”

“No, _he’d_ do _you,”_ Jeremy snickered.

“You’re a prick, you know that?” Gold grumbled.

“Yeah, I know,” Jeremy laughed.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” Gold exclaimed, “Ry said he was going to deliver something to your cell. He said to let you know it should be there by after dinner.”

“Oh, okay,” Jeremy grunted.

_Wonder what he got?_ He looked down at his empty tray miserably. _Hope it’s more food. I’m starving._

“What were your cases of misconduct all about?” Brown suddenly asked.

Jeremy felt a clamp of anxiety in his chest that he tried to swallow.

“Isn’t that a bit obvious?” He scoffed.

“Then they _were_ sexual?” Brown pressed, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Do I have to dignify that with a response?” Jeremy snorted, “I think you know what I’m about, man.”

“I think everyone knows what you’re about,” Gold snickered.

“I do make it pretty obvious,” Jeremy murmured, “I am a very loud whore. What are you two all about?”

“Information,” Brown replied easily.

“Er, I’m a thief?” Gold offered.

“And what about Vagabond?” Jeremy wondered.

“Influence,” Brown and Gold answered together.

_Interesting._

“Well, it’s been real and it’s been fun,” Jeremy muttered as he stood, “But it’s not been real fun.”

He went to drop off his tray and headed to his cell to see what Vagabond got him. His cellie looked up from his pillow as he entered and for the first time Jeremy actually saw his face. He was pale with dark eyes and a scruffy brown beard matching the only feature Jeremy had seen: his long brown hair. Honestly, he looked like Jesus. 

“Vagabond dropped off a gift,” he grumbled, pulling something from under his pillow, “Made me get up for it.”

“Really?” Jeremy grunted, coming to take the gift.

_Weird. Usually he’s so polite._ The gift was a journal with a few colored pencils, held together with a string. Jeremy’s eyebrows raised. 

“Couldn’t come in the cell, obviously,” his cellie murmured, burying his face back in his pillow.

_Obviously?_ Jeremy flipped open the journal to find a note. 

_ Mr. Dooley, _

_ I hope you find this gift to your liking. Needless to say, you should keep this hidden. Please let me know if there is something else more to your liking.  _

_ Sincerely, _

_ Vagabond _

_ P.S. Perhaps, if you are comfortable with it, you could show me some of your drawing some time?  _

Jeremy smiled. He was torn between wanting to immediately draw and going to the card game with West. _Well, I **could** draw later...but it’s been awhile since I got to draw with real color pencils on my own journal too._ He ended up caving to the urge to draw, figuring he could go to the game tomorrow and sketched his Jesus cellie. With a text bubble that said “I’d resurrect, but I’m too tired”. It was lights out by the time he finished it and he poked his cellie to show it to him. His cellie looked up at the drawing and brightened.

“I fucking love that,” he laughed.

“Thanks, my hand is killing me,” Jeremy snorted.

“Oh, I’m Axial by the way,” the guy muttered, “Or Bragg. Sorry, I’m tired constantly. Obviously.”

_ Obviously? _

“Rimmy Tim or Dooley,” Jeremy returned as he stowed the journal, “Sucks you got such an active roommate.”

“Tell me about it,” Axial snorted as Jeremy climbed up to his bunk, “People keep coming looking for you, but you’re never here. Fucking Vagabond was grilling me about you.”

“Really? About what?” Jeremy wondered, settling in.

“Well...”

** Earlier **

_ Clang! _

Matt groaned as someone hit the cell door.

“Pardon me, Bragg?” Vagabond’s voice called, “I apologize for disturbing you, but I have something for Dooley.”

“Who the fuck is Dooley?” Matt mumbled into his pillow.

“Your cellmate,” Vagabond answered, “Others call him Rimmy Tim.”

“Oh, the slut,” Matt murmured, “Can’t you just toss it in?”

“I don’t want to break the lead of the pencils,” Vagabond explained.

Matt sighed, rolling out of bed to retrieve the present.

“You called him the...slut,” Vagabond grunted, “Have you slept with him?”

“I’ve barely seen the dude,” Matt snorted as he took the journal.

“Has someone else done so here in your cell?” Vagabond pressed.

“No, but everyone keeps showing up asking for Rimmy Tim,” Matt grumbled, “It’s been like five days and I’ve met half the population wanting this guy’s ass.”

“And you send them away?” Vagabond guessed.

“Obviously,” Matt sneered, turning back toward his bed, “Anyway, I’m fucking tired.”

“What does he do when he’s here?” Vagabond asked.

“So far he’s barely been here,” Matt pointed out as he flopped down.

“Has he complained about not having anything?” Vagabond questioned.

“Dude, I don’t fucking know anything about him,” Matt huffed in his pillow, “Stop asking me.”

“Right, I apologize,” Vagabond murmured, “Could I get you something to thank you for your time?”

“Maple syrup,” Matt grunted.

** Present **

“Maple syrup?” Jeremy repeated, blinking at the ceiling.

“Obviously,” Axial murmured.

_Obviously._ Jeremy shook his head. There certainly were some characters in San Andreas Correctional. Jeremy supposed he fit in pretty well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a filler episode.


	6. Chapter 6

Jeremy looked around the chapel as he wondered in. It was surprisingly pretty nice. It was a decently large space, with a tall, angled ceiling and a beautiful dark wood floor. There were lights hanging from the ceiling, but they were out, leaving the room somewhat dim with the sparse light of the high, narrow windows. The warm light cast over a dozen rows of pews, an extensive altar, and the curly-haired head of the man who’d asked Jeremy here.

He looked like he was far away, leaning his forearms on his knees as he stared blankly at the dark floor. His face was cast in shadow though his auburn hair caught the warm light in a way that made it akin to a halo on the crown of his head. With the location and the look, he made Jeremy think of old paintings of saints.

“Heya, Jonesy,” Jeremy greeted softly.

Jones stood abruptly, face lighting up.

“Dooley, you came!” He exclaimed brightly.

“Well, yeah, you asked me,” Jeremy snorted.

He held up the folded up note Jones had left on his lunch tray. The note that said “please meet me in the chapel after you eat” and nothing else. Vagabond had had to tell Jeremy it was Jones who left it. 

“R-Right,” Jones grunted, ruffling the back of his hair, “I j-just thought maybe you’d...A-Anyway, I-I got you something.”

He produced his gift from his pocket and Jeremy lit up. 

“Oh!” He exclaimed, clapping his hands together, “Yes, that’s perfect!”

He reached for the bottle of lube in Jones’ hand, but Jones jerked it out of reach.

“Ah, ah!” He teased, grinning, “Say please.”

Jeremy scowled at him, surging forward to try to snatch it from his hand. 

“Gimme!” He huffed, reaching for it as Jones stretched his arm up higher, “Don’t be a dick!”

“I thought that was your favorite part of me?” Jones joked.

“Well, it certainly isn’t your damn sass,” Jeremy grumbled, giving up on out-reaching Jones’ longer arm, “Just tell me what you want.”

He crossed his arms and pouted.

“That’s fucking adorable,” Jones laughed, pinching his cheek, “For a start, I want you to take your clothes off.”

Jeremy pulled his shirt over his head. 

“Whoa, hello,” Jones muttered, “Nice tats, Dooley.”

He traced one finger over the snake slithering across Jeremy’s torso and then the constellations on his chest. 

“Wanna see the back ones?” Jeremy offered.

Jones nodded and Jeremy turned to show off the flowers and the flaming Phoenix on his back. Jeremy kicked off his shoes to drop his pants so Jones could see the tattoos on his ass and legs too. 

“Jesus, you’re fucking covered under your clothes,” Jones muttered, tracing the heart on his ass, “I guess I missed out from arriving late to your fight in the showers, could’ve seen your pretty ink before. “Sweet as honey, if you’ve got money”. Interesting thing to tattoo on yourself.”

“In the context of it being me?” Jeremy snorted.

“Fair point,” Jones relented.

He squeezed Jeremy’s ass tightly, pressing his lips to Jeremy’s ear.

“I know it won’t be today,” he murmured, “But I can’t wait to slam my hips against your fat ass while I fuck your loose little asshole.”

Jeremy shuddered as his cock started to pay attention to the situation. 

“On your hands and knees,” Jones ordered lowly.

Jeremy dropped easily, almost instinctively pushing his ass out. Jones dropped behind him and gripped his ass, spreading his cheeks to swipe his tongue roughly over Jeremy’s asshole. Jeremy choked in surprise, dropping to his forearms. _Jesus, when was the last time I got a rimjob?_

The tip of Jones’ tongue swirled around his hole then pressed firmly against it, slipping inside. Jeremy covered his mouth against a loud groan. His thighs were trembling and he was groaning against his palm, falling apart as Jones tongue-fucked him. He wasn’t sure where this was going, but he wasn’t sure he cared either. 

He jolted a bit as Jones smeared lube on his thigh. He pulled his head back and tugged Jeremy’s hip, flipping him on his back. He pressed Jeremy’s knees together as he pulled his cock out and then pushed his cock between Jeremy’s thighs. Jeremy’s eyebrows went up as he watched Jones slowly fucking his thighs. _Why didn’the just put it in my ass?_

“Mmnnh, f-fuck,” Jones groaned, rubbing his hand up Jeremy’s outer thigh, “G-God, your thighs are, nnh, f-fuckin’ beautiful. F-Feel so good.”

Jeremy puffed out a soft moan at the praise. Jones’ still slightly lubed hand wrapped around his cock and Jeremy made a weak, strangled sort of a sound, eyelids fluttering. Jones shuddered, eyes reopening. 

“Wh-What made that f-fuckin’ sound?” He huffed as his hips moved quicker, “T-Tell me how to make you d-do that again.”

“Th-The lube,” Jeremy muttered, “B-Been awhile since, mmh, I had p-proper lube on my c-cock.”

Jones retrieved the lube to pour more on Jeremy’s cock. Jeremy groaned as the cool liquid dripped down him. Jones’ hand rubbed slowly over his cock, smearing the lube down it and Jeremy clawed at the floorboards, back arching as a breathless, high-pitched “ah!” puffed out of him. 

“God, l-look at you fuckin’ writhe,” Jones moaned, hand moving quicker, “S-Such a little slut. Your whole body is for f-fuckin’. C-Come on, slut, make a mess of y-yourself for me. I wanna watch you c-come all over yourself, wanna, nnh, wanna watch you f-fuckin’ fall apart again and again. W-Wanna see your pretty ink get c-covered. See your slutty body t-twistin’ up and y-“

Jeremy cried out as he came over his belly, the sound echoing a bit in the spacious room. Jones gripped his legs to hold them firmly where he wanted them as he fucked his cock desperately between Jeremy’s thighs. 

“Mm, fuck, s-so pretty, nnh,” he grunted breathlessly, “Fuck fuck fuck fuckin’ _fuck!”_

He came over Jeremy’s belly as well, letting go of Jeremy’s legs and slumping forward as they fell open. He pressed his face into Jeremy’s neck, panting harshly. He hummed, nuzzling Jeremy as he ran his hands up his sides.

“And that wasn’t even my ass,” Jeremy laughed. 

Jones snorted, pulling back to produce a handkerchief to wipe them up again. This time, Jeremy noted it had initials on it. _MJ._

“What’s the M stand for?” He wondered.

“You sure you want to know?” Jones snorted.

“I’m gonna start guessing if you don’t tell me,” Jeremy grunted.

“You’ll guess it pretty quickly, I guarantee,” Jones grumbled.

He pulled back, satisfied Jeremy was as clean as he could be.

“Michael?” Jeremy guessed.

“Told you you’d guess it quickly,” Jones muttered as he helped Jeremy get his underwear and pants on, “It’s only the most common masculine name in the US.”

Jeremy lifted his hips to yank his clothes up over his ass.

“It’s extra blasphemy to fuck a dude named Michael in a church,” he joked as he sat up to grab his shirt.

“This is _not_ a church,” Jones dismissed.

“A chapel is a church,” Jeremy pointed out as he yanked on his shirt.

“This isn’t even a fucking chapel,” Jones insisted.

Jeremy squinted at him.

“The fuck you on about?” He grunted, “You religious trying to pretend you didn’t just sin hardcore?”

“No, just look around,” Jones murmured as Jeremy tugged on his shoes, “Notice anything fucking missing?”

Jeremy glanced around the place. _Missing?_ He squinted at the altar and the wall beyond it.

“Huh, that’s...unusual,” he murmured, “Not a single cross.”

“Exactly,” Jones grunted, “This is a required room that could’ve been a chapel, but fucking _isn’t.”_

“Anyway,” Jeremy muttered, shaking his head, “Give me my prize.”

He held out his hand. Jones grinned again and turned his face, tapping his cheek. Jeremy rolled his eyes and leaned forward to peck his cheek.

“You’re getting sassier each time I see you,” he huffed, holding out his hand again, “Now gimme.”

“It’s ‘cause you encourage me,” Jones laughed, handing over the lube.

Jeremy noted this bottle was full, meaning Jones had brought two to ensure Jeremy got a full one. _Thoughtful._ Jeremy leaned forward to kiss his lips and Jones pulled back sharply.

“My tongue was in your ass,” he reminded him.

Jeremy gripped the back of his neck and yanked him into a bruising kiss, shoving his tongue deep into his mouth. Jones swayed as Jeremy pulled away again.

“If you’re willing to eat my ass, I should be willing to kiss you after,” he snorted, “Anyway, we should go. I don’t have all day to stare at your pretty blushing.”

“I-I’m not blushing!” Jones protested.

“You _weren’t,”_ Jeremy agreed, grinning.

“Such an asshole,” Jones grumbled as he got to his feet and offered Jeremy a hand up.

“What do you expect?” Jeremy scoffed as he took his hand, “I’m a criminal.”

“Suppose you’ve got a point,” Jones conceded as they headed for the door, “Should’ve known what I’d gotten myself into.”

“Me, is the answer,” Jeremy joked.

Jones rolled his eyes at him and then hesitated at the door.

“Look, I’m not gonna tell you how I think you should run your own fucking business,” he grunted, “But I’m serious about Haywood. He’s fucking dangerous. I have good intuition and something’s telling me that guy is bad news.”

“Uh-huh,” Jeremy grunted, “This doesn’t have anything to do with wanting me for yourself?”

Jones blushed again, looking away.

“Th-There might be a...a little of that,” he admitted.

“That’s adorable,” Jeremy cooed, “And not going to happen. I don’t do one guy.”

“I get that,” Jones hurriedly assured him, “I really am more concerned about your safety, I swear.”

“I believe you,” Jeremy laughed, “It’s very cute how protective you are.”

“Sh-Shut up,” Jones grumbled, “I’m going.”

“Don’t forget to rinse your mouth out,” Jeremy advised cheerfully.

Jones hissed out another “shut up” as he left. _Oh, you are so fun to play with, Jonesy._

~

“And that’s that, folks,” Jeremy announced cheerfully, “I believe my esteemed partner and I have taken the last game of the night.”

“I do believe so, partner,” West agreed, hauling in their earnings, “I think it’s about time for a nice stroll.”

They split their stamps and cigarettes and headed for the yard. They shared a lighter and lit a couple cigarettes as they walked.

“I knew you’d be the right partner,” West laughed.

“I think we’re compatible too,” Jeremy snorted.

“And you seem like sparkling company,” West mused.

“You too, you seem delightful,” Jeremy returned.

“I thought you were standing me up when you didn’t show yesterday,” West admitted.

“Nah, just got distracted,” Jeremy assured him.

They fell silent, enjoying the cool night for a moment.

“Full moon,” West commented. 

Jeremy looked up at the sky.

“Well, you know what that means,” he muttered, “Gonna be at least one riot.”

“Not in San Andreas Correctional, my friend,” West scoffed, “No riots here.”

Jeremy raised an eyebrow, glancing at him.

“None?” He prompted.

“We get maybe one or two a year,” West grunted, “They call this place Real Reform for a reason.”

“So that’s actually legit?” Jeremy pressed, “I thought that was just fucking rumor.”

“No, sir, real as can be,” West snorted, “We become good little boys in Real Reform. Perfect little sheep, shuffled into place by our perfect little Shepard.”

Jeremy hummed thoughtfully as they paused, looking up at the moon where it still hung pretty low in the sky. _Getting a bit serious._

“I would feel bad if I didn’t warn you, Rimmy,” West muttered, “Vagabond is a dangerous being to tango with. You seem like you can handle yourself, but still, fair warning.”

“Thanks, I guess,” Jeremy snorted, “Hopefully it doesn’t go down as quick as I do.”

West choked on laughter and smoke and Jeremy laughed too. _Sex, winning, and making a friend. What a great day._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took so long to come out because I’ve been struggling all day yesterday and today with Twitter people consistently arguing with and insulting me. My anxiety and my heart condition have worked together to make this experience pretty terrible. I am doing my best to resolve the issues brought up by well-meaning people in an effort to make sure my work remains away from the people it may harm. But the less well-meaning people are making it extremely difficult to continue writing, which I imagine is their goal. I can’t promise that I will continue writing at this point because I am losing the comfort writing these fics gave me. I apologize to those of you that use my fics as an escape from the real world bullshit and I’m sorry in advance if I end up dropping off. Thank you for reading anyway.


	7. Chapter 7

Jeremy slapped a hand over his mouth as he woke up, to stifle the scream his nightmare produced. He swiped sweat off his forehead, panting to catch his breath as he woke up further. _Same shit, different day._ After he had his breath back and he stopped shaking, he rolled over, looking out of the cell door. It was still pretty dark, but the sun was starting to come up, its warmth just barely ghosting through the distant windows. 

He heard movement down the hall and frowned. Several pairs of feet were coming his way. He closed his eyes most of the way to feign sleep and watched as a group of prisoners were led past his cell. They weren’t cuffed nor did it look like they’d just been fighting, solitary was the other direction anyway. It just appeared to be a small group of maybe ten or twelve prisoners walking quietly and casually down the hallway. Jeremy recognized Marks in the group and a few more looked vaguely familiar. _What in the world?_

The situation confused and weirded him out so much he couldn’t fall back asleep and ended up drawing to distract himself. He started to sketch Vagabond, for no particular reason and actually found him sort of difficult to draw from memory. What shape were his eyes? All he could remember was the shade of blue, which he didn’t have access to anyway. Pink lips. How thick were they? Hm. He’d gotten the basic outline of the man sketched by breakfast, but found himself wholly unsatisfied with the drawing. He had, however, completely forgotten the weird incident that had started the drawing and even his nightmare before that. 

He was feeling better, eager to get a good look at Vagabond as he trotted off to the cafeteria. He sat down beside Vagabond with a vague wave to everyone else. There was something extra on his tray, distracting him from his quest to check out Vagabond’s face. One of those little styrofoam cups of ice cream. Jeremy looked over at Vagabond who tilted his head slightly toward him. Jeremy grinned, cozying up to Vagabond’s side. Vagabond moved his arm around him, lips twitching.

“Thank you!” Jeremy chirped as he opened the ice cream.

“No thanks necessary,” Vagabond dismissed, “Didn’t I agree to take care of you?”

“Mmyeah, but still,” Jeremy muttered, shrugging, “Thoughtful of you to pay attention to what the twins told you about the interrogation.”

“Interrogation?” Vagabond repeated coolly.

“Hah, I’m sure he’s just being funny,” Gold hurriedly spoke up, “We just asked him what he wanted, like you said.”

“Vav threatened him with a spoon,” Brown cut in, immediately throwing Gold under the bus.

“X-Ray!” Gold whined.

“I believe I was clear about how you should treat Mr. Dooley,” Vagabond pointed out frigidly.

The table was tense again.

“I was mostly polite!” Gold huffed.

“It’s okay,” Jeremy assured Vagabond, “He was just worried about you. You got good friends, y’know? Here, share my ice cream with me.”

He lifted his spoon and Vagabond’s face softened again as he opened his mouth to accept the bite. Again the table relaxed as he did. Jeremy started to say the man really should eat more, considering he always gave Jeremy his tray, but figured he must be getting food via contraband.

“Hey, Rimmy?” West’s light voice called.

Jeremy looked up and around at him.

“Hey, partner, what’s up?” He greeted cheerfully.

“Just wanted to know if you’re playing tonight,” West asked, grinning, “I know we won big, but I’m a bit of a chain-smoker.”

“Sure thing,” Jeremy agreed, “Not like I have a lot of recreation options.”

“You got that right,” West snorted, “See you then.”

“See you,” Jeremy returned as West moved on.

“You’re friends with the card player,” Vagabond commented.

“Yeah, we hung out yesterday,” Jeremy confirmed as he went back to eating, “We’re pretty good partners in Spades, actually.”

“Do you have enough for betting?” Vagabond asked.

“I do now,” Jeremy answered, “West did have to put down the initial bet, but I’m good now.”

“Very well,” Vagabond murmured, “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Hey, actually,” Jeremy grunted, turning to look up at him, “I was trying to draw you, but I couldn’t remember your face right. Could I hang out with you today to get it?”

Vagabond’s face went pink.

“You want to draw me?” He mumbled.

“Yeah, I mean, is that alright?” Jeremy muttered, “Actually, I didn’t think it might be a bit rude to do it without asking.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Vagabond quickly assured him, “I was just surprised. Yes, we can...hang out. I have a little bit of open time now.” 

“Great!” Jeremy chirped.

He finished eating both their trays of food then they went off to his cell so he could pick up the journal. Axial lifted his head.

“Hey, thanks, Vagabond,” he grunted.

“No thanks necessary,” Vagabond assured him, “The gift was thanks for your patience.”

“Still, very quick and you definitely didn’t have to,” Axial insisted.

“I keep my word,” Vagabond muttered.

Jeremy rejoined him at the cell door.

“You got him his syrup then?” He guessed as they headed for Vagabond’s cell.

“Indeed,” Vagabond confirmed, “I fear I was rude to him.”

“I dunno that rude’s the way he told it,” Jeremy snorted, “You’re just real keen on following through.”

“I keep my word,” Vagabond repeated.

“You can relax a bit,” Jeremy assured him, “You’re keeping your word just fine. I’ll say something if you aren’t, okay?”

Vagabond glanced at him hesitantly.

“Okay, I will try to stop being so overzealous,” he agreed as they made it to his cell, “I can’t promise this though. Where would you like me to sit for you?”

Jeremy had him sit on his bunk while he sat at his table. 

“Who’s your cellie by the way?” Jeremy asked as he began.

“Marks,” Vagabond answered.

“Convenient,” Jeremy grunted.

“I think you will find many things turn out convenient for me,” Vagabond muttered.

“Like what?” Jeremy prompted.

“Guards looking the other way,” Vagabond murmured, “Contraband going missing just before a random search. Cases of amnesia in injured inmates. Convenient little things like that.”

_He’s the most dangerous motherfucker in the building._

“Why is that?” Jeremy wondered.

“Influence,” Vagabond answered easily.

_There’s that word again._

“I would say influence is something you understand,” he added.

“Do I have influence over others?” Jeremy mused.

“Of course,” Vagabond confirmed, “Your allure is quite powerful.”

“Er, thank you?” Jeremy offered uncertainly.

_I think that was a compliment anyway._

“You mentioned you play chess occasionally,” Vagabond suddenly recalled, “Perhaps we could play some time?”

“You play?” Jeremy prompted.

“When Gold is in a more even mood,” Vagabond answered, “So not very often.”

“You don’t have anyone else to play with?” Jeremy pressed.

“Not particularly,” Vagabond muttered.

“So what do you do for fun then?” Jeremy wondered.

Vagabond hesitated to answer for some reason.

“I...paint,” he admitted quietly.

“Oh, that’s what the paint in the box is about,” Jeremy guessed, “What do you paint?”

“Small portraits,” Vagabond murmured.

“Of who?” Jeremy pressed on.

“It’s whoever strikes me at the time,” Vagabond explained.

“I guess that’s me as well,” Jeremy mused, “I don’t even know why I started drawing you.”

“Inspiration rarely has reason,” Vagabond muttered.

“Hey, maybe you should paint me sometime and we could trade,” Jeremy laughed lightly, “I’m joking, just to be clear.”

“I’ve...already painted you,” Vagabond confessed hesitantly.

Jeremy paused drawing, eyebrows going up. Vagabond wasn’t looking at him, face light pink.

“Really?” Jeremy grunted, “That’s pretty fast, isn’t it?”

“Perhaps,” Vagabond mumbled.

“Could I see it?” Jeremy asked.

Vagabond was extremely hesitant about answering this one.

“Perhaps after yours is finished,” he offered.

“It’s no big deal,” Jeremy assured him, going back to drawing, “I was just curious about how you see me.”

“I...don’t know that it will be very...flattering,” Vagabond replied carefully.

“Do I seem like someone who needs to be flattered?” Jeremy scoffed.

“Of course not,” Vagabond dismissed, “I meant more unflattering for me. I fear you won’t like how I see you.”

“Can’t be as bad as some guys,” Jeremy muttered, “But it’s alright, I’m not trying to pressure you.”

“I...I will show you,” Vagabond agreed, “When yours is done.”

“Awesome!” Jeremy chirped, grinning.

They were mostly quiet while Jeremy finished his sketch of Vagabond. He was wearing Jeremy’s favorite expression: desperation. Eyes watching carefully, partly closed and his lips parted. Without color his pretty flush couldn’t be seen, but the image practically conjured the blush in his mind’s eye. He brought it over to Vagabond who blushed.

“It’s...really good,” he murmured.

“Thank you,” Jeremy returned, smiling warmly, “I’m glad you think so.”

Vagabond turned to retrieve the box and carefully slipped a piece of card stock, about the size of a post card, from a vertical stack. He held it out to Jeremy who flipped it over to see the painting of himself. It was actually sort of similar to the one he’d drawn of Vagabond. He was giving some serious bedroom eyes, his lips were turned up in a grin, and his face was lightly flushed. In addition to this, on his neck was a dark bite mark. All around him, framing him, was a purple flower of some kind, a lily, he thought.

“Wow, this is amazing!” Jeremy exclaimed, “I love it!”

“R-Really?” Vagabond stammered.

Jeremy looked up to find Vagabond’s blush had deepened and his heart fluttered. _Aww, he’s so cute!_

“Yes, really!” He laughed, “You’re really good. And I’m really flattered, I look so great!”

“Th-That’s very kind of you,” Vagabond mumbled, “But I feel I’ve objectified you. I...”

He tapped his fingers on his thighs.

“I see more than that now,” he assured Jeremy quietly, “This is not the sum of how I see you.”

“Aw, you’re making me feel all warm and gushy,” Jeremy joked, “It’s okay. Isn’t our whole relationship based on objectification anyway?”

“Perhaps,” Vagabond conceded, “But you are still a person.”

“Are you saying you value me as a person?” Jeremy teased.

Vagabond hesitantly met his eyes.

“I would be a fool to value honey only for the sweet taste,” he spoke softly.

Jeremy’s heart did backflips. _Awww!_ Jeremy kissed him lightly and his lips twitched into a little smile. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise cuteness! 
> 
> Also, in case you don’t read my other stuff: sorry for the fucked up schedule. I’m working on it. Thank you for your support! ❤️


	8. Chapter 8

Jeremy jolted awake, covering the scream trying to break free of his lips. _Fourth day in a row..._ He didn’t usually have nightmares this often. Especially not ones _this_ bad. He was exhausted. Though he had Jones, Vagabond, and West cheering him up throughout the days, lights out and mornings were becoming hellish. 

He did his best to shake it off when the doors opened and shuffled down to breakfast. Just keep momentum. Just keep moving forward. Just keep your head up. It was the best way to cope when your life wasn’t great. But it was particularly difficult when you were utterly exhausted. West accosted him before he managed to make it to Vagabond’s table. He squeezed Jeremy’s shoulder, a look of concern on his face.

“Hey, partner, you alright?” He asked.

“Tired,” Jeremy admitted.

“You look like you need a pick-me-up,” West murmured, “Here.”

He retrieved a little snack cake from his pocket.

“Seem like you need it more than me,” he offered.

“I’m not gonna fuck you,” Jeremy mumbled tiredly, “Too damn tired for that.”

“You know people can give you gifts without trying to fuck you, right?” West snorted, shaking his head, “You’re my friend. I’m trying to make you feel better.”

Jeremy’s mood lifted a bit and he smiled weakly at him.

“Thanks, man,” he muttered, “Sorry for assuming, but anyway, I can’t accept that.”

West took his hand and put the plastic-wrapped cake in it.

“You can,” he assured him firmly, “I wanna see my partner smiling and happy again.”

Jeremy’s smile strengthened and warmed on his face. _A genuine friend, how rare._

“There you are,” West teased, “Just keep your head up, partner.”

“Thanks, I’ll do my best,” Jeremy laughed.

They parted and Jeremy headed over to sit down, feeling significantly better. Vagabond turned toward him, gently placing his hand on the small of his back. 

“How are you feeling?” He prompted.

“I’m fine, better now,” Jeremy answered, “I’m still pretty tired though.”

Vagabond leaned closely to him.

“Perhaps we could go to my cell?” He offered under his breath, “I have free time and you could get some more sleep.”

_Oh, had it already been a week?_

“Before or after you bang me?” Jeremy sneered moodily.

“That’s not-“ Vagabond started, but stopped, stiffening as Jones approached the table.

Ah, yes, the other thing causing exhaustion: Vagabond and Jones’ rivalry. Any time they were near each other, they were arguing. Jones would flat out tell Vagabond to fuck off and Vagabond would craft vicious retorts. He put his arm around Jeremy as Jones stopped in front of them. Jeremy sighed. _Here we go again._

“Dooley, I brought you something,” Jones muttered gruffly, putting it in front of Jeremy.

_Yeah, it had been awhile, he was probably itching for it._ Jeremy barely glanced at the candy as he pushed it away. 

“I’m too tired for that,” he grumbled.

“What?” Jones grunted, “No, it’s not for that.”

Vagabond snorted and Jones shot him a glare.

“Something to say, Haywood?” He growled.

“I think you speak plenty for yourself,” Vagabond answered coolly, “Your presence only when it rewards you, speaks volumes on your character.”

“Fuck you!” Jones snapped, “I’m around more than just for that!”

“Yet every time you’re with him...” Vagabond countered, letting him finish the thought on his own.

“Th-That’s just-!” Jones sputtered, “I-I have a fucking job! It’s not my fault!”

“Perhaps not,” Vagabond agreed, “But does it not mean you’re not around enough? Even if it’s out of your control?”

“A-Are you trying to say I’m not fucking good enough?!” Jones demanded.

“I would never dream of it,” Vagabond dismissed, “I’m sure I don’t need to point out your inadequacies.”

“You’d know about inadequacies, wouldn’t you?” Jones sneered.

Vagabond tensed.

“What did you just say to me, _boy?”_ He growled, low and cold.

“I said I doubt you stack up, _old man,”_ Jones taunted.

“Shut the fuck up!” Jeremy interrupted, standing, “I am so fucking sick of this! You are longer-“

He pointed to Jones.

“You are thicker,” he added, pointing to Vagabond, “By fucking centimeters, so congratulations, neither of you are more impressive than the other.”

He took his tray and stormed over to where West was sitting. He plopped down, scowling as the conversation at the table was disrupted. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” he grumbled.

“Rough day already, huh?” West prompted sympathetically.

“Just...started off shit and hasn’t got better yet,” Jeremy muttered bitterly.

West squeezed his shoulder again.

“I hear ya, partner,” he assured, “Hey, you can rant all you want, if you need to.”

Jeremy relaxed a bit, giving him a grateful smile. West smiled warmly back at him.

“I’m gonna steal that cake back though if you don’t eat it,” he joked, hand going for the cake on Jeremy’s tray.

“Hands off, partner, this is mine now,” Jeremy laughed, batting his hand away.

_At least there’s one person not trying to be nice just to fuck me. Probably._ But who knew? West could be playing the long game. _God, what a pessimistic way of looking at it. What have I become?_ It was the combination of the nightmares and the rivalry no doubt. He needed to pull back for a bit and get his head back on the way it usually was.

He spent the morning with West and at lunch split from him, skipping lunch to head back to his cell. He was still pretty tired. He climbed up on his bunk and found a white origami rose on his pillow. In the center was a little note, framed by the folded petals.

_I’m sorry for being a dick._

Jeremy smiled lightly. He picked up the rose and pressed it to his nose. Of course it only smelled like paper, but when he lifted it, he found the candy Jones had tried to give him earlier. A man of few words, Jones was, but over all a sweet guy. 

Under the candy was one of the pieces of card stock from Vagabond’s box.The front was a painting of another one of those purple lilies from the portrait of Jeremy. On the back was a note.

_ Mr. Dooley, _

_ I apologize for my behavior earlier and over the past few days. I have been very selfish and childish. I will endeavor to change my behavior for the better. _

_ My sincerest apologies, _

_ Vagabond _

Not wanting to crush the flower or the painting, Jeremy hopped down to put them over on the edge of the wall where Axial had a few books. Then he climbed back in bed to take his nap, smiling lightly as he fell asleep. _Things aren’t so bad. Just keep your head up._

Mid-afternoon he woke up and decided to draw Jones until dinner. He found himself drawing Jones much like how he’d drawn Vagabond: desperate. Face drawn up and again the blush on his cheeks was conjured in his mind’s eye. _Adorable._ He shuffled down to dinner when it was time, feeling in much higher spirits. 

Unfortunately, the rest of the cafeteria was not in high spirits. The place was tense and quiet, only a faint murmuring of voices here and there. The gloom in the air was palpable. _What the hell did I miss??_ He headed for Vagabond’s table where the man was listening to Gold chattering again, face blank as he stared down at his tray. Brown noticed Jeremy again and said something to Vagabond.

Vagabond looked up, face lifting slightly as he saw Jeremy. _Aww, he missed me. That’s adorable._ West accosted him again, offering him a spot at his table, but Jeremy politely turned him down and West said “well, see you later, then” and moved on. Vagabond watched West walking away with an icy stare as Jeremy finished his walk over. Jeremy just rolled his eyes. Idiot.

The barest hint of relief softened Vagabond’s face as Jeremy drew near and sat. The rest of the table seemed just as relieved. Clearly this was part of that influence thing. When Vagabond was upset, everyone was tense. Waiting for him to fly off the handle, maybe. He placed his hand gently on Jeremy’s lower back.

“How are you feeling?” He murmured, “You’re looking better.”

“I am,” Jeremy assured him, “Got a nap in. Thank you for the painting, by the way. I accept your apology.”

Vagabond smiled, warm and genuine, the biggest smile that Jeremy had seen on him yet. 

“I’m so glad,” he admitted.

Jeremy smiled back. _What a dork._

“Dooley,” Jones grunted.

Jeremy looked over to find him in front of the table, looking away.

“Did you get my note?” He mumbled.

“I did,” Jeremy confirmed, “I accept your apology as well. It’s unfortunate neither of you could get fresh flowers, but I think I like the art more anyway.”

“Origami isn’t art,” Jones protested.

“It definitely is,” Jeremy insisted, “And it’s beautiful.”

“Um, th-thanks,” Jones stammered, face pink, “G-Gotta go before my coworkers start to notice how much time I’m spending here. Also, here.”

He pushed a folded up note across the table toward Jeremy who picked it up.

“See ya, Jonesy,” he chirped.

“See you,” Jones agreed.

He glanced at Vagabond.

“Haywood,” he muttered, nodding his head.

“Jones,” Vagabond returned, also nodding.

Jones went off and Jeremy’s eyebrows went up. The ice king and the fiery knight not bickering? Well, now he’d seen it all. He looked at the note, unfolding it.

_Please meet me in the greenhouse after dinner._

“There’s a greenhouse??” Jeremy demanded.

“Of course,” Vagabond answered, “We grow what fruits and vegetables we can for the food here. It’s a work detail. Do you have interest in being put with the growers?”

“Er, no, not really,” Jeremy dismissed, “I don’t really have a preference. Anyway, I’ve never seen a greenhouse in a prison before.”

“I imagine there is much about San Andreas Correctional you haven’t seen elsewhere,” Vagabond mused, “The greenhouse is usually empty at night however.”

_Ah._

“You fuck up the plants, you’ll see what an _actual_ dangerous person can do with a spoon,” Brown spoke up

“Watch it,” Vagabond warned lowly.

“Don’t worry,” Jeremy placated, “I have great aim.”

Gold choked next to him, sputtering on laughter and mashed potatoes. Both Vagabond and Brown gave Jeremy an exasperated look while he grinned widely. 

“Great, now we have two little shits,” Brown muttered dryly.

“Well, if we get rid of Gold, we’ll be back down at a tolerable number,” Vagabond offered.

“Oi!” Gold squawked, “I was here first!”

“Yeah, but I’m prettier,” Jeremy laughed.

Gold made a shrieking bird noise of protest and the rest of the table laughed. Even Vagabond chuckled and Brown snorted. It let Jeremy believe he was a positive influence for once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re getting closer to the good stuff, I promise. 😅


	9. Chapter 9

The greenhouse for San Andreas Correctional was close to a side door that led into the kitchen, presumably for easy access. It was a well-maintained structure and didn’t look much different than any other greenhouse Jeremy had seen. Past the greenhouse was a small garden plot where Jeremy could see some vegetables growing. The whole thing was just so nice he was shocked. It seemed like the people behind making the prison actually gave a shit about helping reform the dregs of society. 

He glanced around before opening the greenhouse door. Jones was leaning on one of the tables which was laden with plants Jeremy didn’t recognize. Not that it was difficult for that to happen considering he rarely ever saw plants. Jones brightened up, standing as Jeremy entered and Jeremy noted he was in civilian clothes. 

“You dress up nice just for me, Jonesy?” Jeremy teased as he put his arms around Jones’ neck.

“I’m off work now,” Jones pointed out, putting his hands on Jeremy’s waist, “But sure, I made extra effort. Gonna reward me?”

He grinned cheekily and Jeremy laughed.

“You are such a little shit,” he snorted.

“That’s why you like me though,” Jones laughed, “That and my cock.”

“Are you gonna fuck me or what, asshole?” Jeremy grumbled.

“Impatient,” Jones teased, “Let’s move further in.”

He guided Jeremy further in the greenhouse, into a small open space between tables that made it so they weren’t directly in view of the door or the windows. He turned Jeremy, pressing up behind him. Jeremy tilted his head to give him room and Jones pressed his lips against Jeremy’s bared neck. His hands tugged Jeremy’s pants and underwear down and let them drop as he mouthed over his neck. 

Then he wrapped one hand around Jeremy’s cock and the other went between them to his asshole. He shifted back a bit, retrieving lube and was back again quickly. He pressed one finger in Jeremy and another nearly immediately after. Despite the awkward angle, Jones kept his fingers inside him and his face buried in Jeremy’s neck. Like he didn’t want to pull away from him. Jeremy grunted as he slipped a third finger in him a tiny bit too soon and he finally pulled away slightly, freezing.

“Are you okay?” He asked, “Too much?”

“I’m fine, relax,” Jeremy muttered, “You’re a virgin, huh?”

“Wh-What, no!” Jones huffed. 

“Mm, you’ve never had a guy before,” Jeremy amended.

“Had _you,”_ Jones mumbled defensively.

“That’s adorable,” Jeremy snorted.

Jones’ hand jerked up harshly.

“Shut up,” he growled.

Jeremy suppressed a shudder, feeling himself flush. He felt a surge of lust and desire to be hurt. Desire to _play._

“Wh-Why don’t you make me shut up?” He challenged.

Jones gripped the back of his neck and bent him over. Jeremy braced his hands on the table in front of him as Jones shifted around behind him. Then he pressed his cock up against Jeremy’s asshole and pushed forward without hesitance. Jeremy grunted, tensing against what he was not fully ready for. He hissed out a few breaths, relaxing quickly and Jones slid in the last couple inches easily. It fucking burned and it was stretching him painfully. Jeremy moaned lowly, back dipping as he pushed impatiently against Jones who nearly stumbled back from the force of it.

“God, you’re a f-fuckin’ slut,” Jones groaned, “P-Pushin’ your fat ass on my c-cock.”

He rocked his hips against said fat ass, quickly working up his pace. Jeremy moaned and panted harshly as Jones fucked into him hard and fast. His hand moved from Jeremy’s neck to his hair and he yanked Jeremy up onto his fingertips. He nipped below Jeremy’s ear.

“Y-You like me g-gettin’ rough with you?” He huffed, “Like me, nnh, f-fuckin’ your pretty f-fat ass hard, slut? L-Like me hurting you? G-God, you’re fuckin’ pretty, sound s-so pretty too.”

He reached around Jeremy to jerk him off as he spewed more filth in his ear. He managed to rub his cock against Jeremy’s prostate every few thrusts, sending more hot sparks through Jeremy. His hand faltered as he pressed hard into Jeremy, coming with a string of curses. He paused a moment, panting harshly in Jeremy’s ear before quickly refocusing, moving his hand quickly on Jeremy’s cock. Then Jeremy came with a whimper and they fell to the rough floor.

Jones pressed kisses over Jeremy’s ear and neck, humming as he cleaned them up and got their clothes back in order. It was a bit awkward since he wouldn’t let go of Jeremy, holding him closely and rubbing a hand over his torso and arms. They ended up on the floor, half-laying on each other and Jeremy actually enjoyed the cuddling.

“Dooley, I was...wondering,” Jones murmured, toying with the edge of Jeremy’s sleeve, “That guy, blondie, do you fuck him?”

“West?” Jeremy grunted, “No, why? You jealous?”

“Nah, I just get a...weird feeling from him,” Jones muttered, “Like something’s not right with him.”

“You realize we’re all criminals, right?” Jeremy snorted.

“Yeah, but criminals are necessarily bad fucking people,” Jones countered, “I’ve met loads of criminals I didn’t get bad vibes from.”

“Nothing to do with your jealousy?” Jeremy scoffed.

“I don’t fucking know,” Jones grumbled, twisting to settle on his back, “Maybe I am just a fucking asshole.”

Jeremy turned, laying his chin on Jones’ chest and grinning up at him.

“It’s okay,” he assured him, “Just as long as you don’t try to control me, I think it’s cute.”

Jones blushed, looking away.

“Sh-Shut up,” he mumbled.

Jeremy’s heart fluttered. He shifted up to kiss Jones’ red cheek. Jones smiled shyly at him. _What a cutie._

~

Jeremy shuffled from his cell to the cafeteria. Day seven of the nightmares. Day seven of waking up breathless and screaming. Day seven of being exhausted and drained. West came up to him, squeezing his shoulder, face filled with concern. Jeremy smiled weakly at him.

“You alright, partner?” West asked, “You look worse every day.”

“I’m fine,” Jeremy assured him, “Just a bit tired.”

“You sure?” West pressed, “‘Cause you seem sick to me.”

“I’m fine,” Jeremy dismissed, waving a hand, “Besides, seeing you gives me energy, partner.”

“Careful, that almost sounded romantic,” West laughed.

“You sayin’ you don’t want this?” Jeremy joked, gesturing down at himself.

West looked him up and down.

“Meh,” he answered, shrugging.

Jeremy laughed.

“Anyway, I’m gonna go get breakfast now,” he mused, “I’ll see ya later.”

“See ya!” West chirped.

He moved off to his table and Jeremy went off to Vagabond’s. Jeremy sat, slumping a bit. Vagabond turned toward him, touching his lower back.

“Dooley, are you alright?” He questioned.

His usual micro expression was a macro expression of deep concern. Jeremy smiled weakly.

“I’m fine,” he assured him.

He turned to his tray, poking lethargically at his food with his spoon.

“Actually, I think I might go back to bed,” he mumbled, dropping his spoon.

“You’ve been having nightmares,” Vagabond guessed.

Jeremy nodded.

“Why don’t you come with me to my cell?” Vagabond offered, “Getting a nap with someone may be helpful.”

“Okay,” Jeremy agreed.

Vagabond took him to his cell and they crowded together on his small bunk. Vagabond pulled him close, wrapping his arms around him and pressing his face in Jeremy’s hair.

“Sleep well, dulce meum,” he murmured.

Jeremy hummed, smiling softly as he drifted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got my schedule fucked up again. 😅 dude, what even is a schedule? 😂


	10. Chapter 10

Jeremy woke up in the late morning feeling leagues better. Maybe that was the trick: sleep during the day. He and Vagabond had shifted around while he was sleeping and now Vagabond was flat on his back with Jeremy pressed against his side. Jeremy rubbed his cheek against Vagabond’s chest, humming. 

“Are you awake?” Vagabond asked, brushing a hand through his hair.

“Yeah, guess so,” Jeremy mumbled.

“Feel any better?” Vagabond prompted.

“Much better,” Jeremy answered.

He sat up and swung a leg over Vagabond to straddle his waist. Vagabond was at attention immediately or rather, his cock was. He cleared his throat, starting to sit up, but Jeremy put his hand on his chest to press him back down. Vagabond swallowed as he let himself be pushed back into the mattress. Jeremy leaned forward over him, rubbing his ass against the tent in Vagabond’s pants. Vagabond’s eyelids drooped and his lips parted as his hands laid over Jeremy’s thighs. 

“You still have the lube I gave you?” Jeremy prompted.

Vagabond nodded eagerly, gesturing at the secret stash. Jeremy leaned over to retrieve the bottle and Vagabond moved to take it from him.

“Ah, ah,” Jeremy warned, pulling it out of range, “You just stay still.”

Vagabond frowned as he settled back down. Jeremy carefully maneuvered to pull his shirt over his head and get his pants and underwear off. A bit of an awkward shuffle, but Vagabond watched him carefully like it was a hot strip show. Then Jeremy leaned over him, bracing one hand by Vagabond’s head as the other went behind him. 

“Dooley,” he grunted, jaw clenching and eyes roaming over Jeremy.

“Yes, Vagabond?” Jeremy asked innocently as he pressed two lubed fingers inside himself.

Vagabond watched between his legs, his breath puffing out of his parted lips. Jeremy flushed hotly at how desperate he was getting so quickly and he moved quicker, impatient to get to the fun part. He moaned softly, eyes closing as he added a third finger.

_“Dooley,”_ Vagabond repeated, gritting it out through his teeth.

Jeremy’s eyes slowly reopened.

“What is it, Vagabond?” He breathed.

Vagabond shuddered below him, letting out that desperate strangled moan, his face twisting up.

“D-Dooley,” he whispered brokenly, “I...p-please.”

_God, you’re so fucking sexy like this._ Jeremy was hot all over as he pressed his lips to Vagabond’s, shifting to grab the lube bottle again. One of Vagabond’s hands gripped desperately at Jeremy’s hip while the other fumbled to shove his clothes out of the way. He pulled his hand up and Jeremy poured lube on it. He rubbed the lube over his cock, pausing a second to shudder and let out another of his strangled moans. Jeremy chuckled breathlessly, recalling he’d done the same. Then they were shuffling, getting into place and Jeremy groaned as he slid down on Vagabond’s cock.

“Ohh, fuck,” Vagabond breathed, shuddering again.

He reached up above his head to grab the frame of the bed. He was huffing out breath, body twitching like he was trying to hold himself back. 

“Nnh, s-so wet,” he moaned.

The bed frame creaked where he was gripping it and his head pressed back.

“Fuck!” He growled, “Move, _now!”_

Jeremy shuddered and went hotter at being ordered. He started moving, groaning as he bounced on Vagabond’s cock. Vagabond moaned, body and face drawing up and his teeth baring in a snarl. _Jesus, he’s going fucking feral._ Jeremy gripped his own cock, panting harshly as he fucked himself on Vagabond’s. Vagabond was struggling to keep himself still and in control and it was driving Jeremy wild. He was an absolute mess with Jeremy on his cock. Exactly how Jeremy liked him.

Jeremy actually came first, splattering white on Vagabond’s orange and faltering in his movements. Vagabond twisted them, pressing his lips to Jeremy’s neck as he quickly and harshly fucked him into the mattress. Jeremy groaned as he was fucked through his orgasm, body twisting under Vagabond. Vagabond’s teeth bit lightly over Jeremy’s pulse as he slammed hard into him, coming deep inside him. He thrust a few more times, slow and deep before he halted completely, panting against Jeremy’s neck. Then he pulled back sharply, gripping Jeremy’s chin to turn his head aside. He touched Jeremy’s pulse point lightly and puffed out a relieved-sounding sigh. 

“Are you alright?” He asked, eyebrows together, eyes filled with concern.

“I’m fucking amazing,” Jeremy whispered.

Vagabond moved away to grab toilet paper and Jeremy shivered at the loss of his body heat. He was back quickly, cleaning Jeremy up and helping him back onto his clothes. Unfortunately his own shirt had drying jizz on it, but he didn’t seem to care, looking at Jeremy in concern as they settled back on their sides.

“Are you alright?” He repeated, “You were unwell. We- _I_ shouldn’t have done that.”

“I’m fine,” Jeremy dismissed, though the tired was seeping in again, “I’m not sick, dude. Just sleeping poorly. But I do want another nap.”

“That’s alright,” Vagabond assured him, pulling him close, “You can have as many naps as you want.”

“You just like holding me,” Jeremy teased tiredly.

Vagabond was quiet a moment as he brushed his hand through Jeremys hair and Jeremy started to drift.

“Yes, I do,” he admitted softly, “I like taking care of you.”

He kissed Jeremy’s temple. Jeremy snuggled closer, smiling as fell asleep again.

~

Jeremy was dead on his feet as he ambled into the cafeteria for dinner. Ten days of the horrible nightmares now. The naps were helping, but he couldn’t sleep enough during the day to catch up. Especially after finally starting his work detail. 

“Partner?” West called softly, “You sure you’re alright? You look like a corpse.”

Jeremy looked up at him, smiling weakly.

“Fine,” he mumbled.

“If you’re sure,” West muttered, “But you seem sick to me.”

“‘M fine,” Jeremy dismissed, “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Alright,” West sighed, “Later.”

Jeremy shuffled off to Vagabond, dropping into the seat beside him. He didn’t even bother picking up his spoon. He rarely ate the past ten days. Vagabond turned toward him, hand immediately going to his lower back. Jeremy looked up at him, smiling vaguely.

“Dooley, you are not well,” Vagabond murmured.

“Just bad sleep,” Jeremy insisted.

“Bad sleep,” Vagabond repeated, “Dooley...your nightmares, what happen in them?”

“Um, running,” Jeremy offered, “It chases me.”

“It?” Vagabond prompted.

“Shadow man,” Jeremy answered, “Chases me until I can’t run any more. Then he sits on my chest and claws my face.”

“Dooley!” Vagabond exclaimed, “That’s a nightmare!”

“That’s what I said, bad sleep,” Jeremy mumbled.

“No not a nightmare, a night- _mare,”_ Vagabond grumbled, “A mare of the night.”

_A what now?_ He put his hand to Jeremy’s forehead and Jeremy leaned into his warm touch. _When did I get so cold?_

“How many days have you been dealing with this??” Vagabond demanded.

“Ten?” Jeremy offered.

“Ten?!” Vagabond choked, “We need to get you to medical immediately!”

“‘M fine,” Jeremy repeated.

“How the hell is a mare targeting him??” Gold spoke up.

“That is what I’d like to know,” Vagabond growled as he hooked his arms under Jeremy’s knees and shoulders, “Ray, look into the most likely candidates. Gavin, track down Jones. Marks, check in on Axial, make sure he’s not afflicted as well.”

He lifted Jeremy who put his arms around him, burying his face in his warm neck as he stood.

“Misconduct,” Jeremy warned weakly.

“Shh, you’re not going to get in trouble,” Vagabond soothed as he carried Jeremy off, “The guards are conveniently not noticing us.”

“‘M fine though,” Jeremy assured him.

“You’re not,” Vagabond muttered.

A door opened and they went through it.

“Ry?” A vaguely familiar voice grunted, “Who’d you fuck up this time?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Vagabond grumbled, “This is Dooley. He’s been targeted by a mare.”

_A what?_

“He’s been what?!” The other voice demanded.

Vagabond set Jeremy down on a bed and the vaguely familiar face attached to the vaguely familiar voice appeared over him.

“‘M fine,” he mumbled weakly.

“Stop saying that!” Vagabond hissed, “You’re not fine! He’s been ridden ten nights!”

_I’ve been what now?_

“Ten?!” The other voice choked, “Jesus, okay, keep him awake while I get him what he needs.”

Vagabond sat next to Jeremy as the person hurried off. He put his hand in Jeremy’s and put the other to his forehead. 

“You have to stay awake, dulce meum,” he murmured, “Stay with me, okay?”

“Where else would I go?” Jeremy grunted, “What’s going on?”

“A mare has been targeting you,” Vagabond explained, brushing his hand through Jeremy’s hair, “I’m shocked you can’t identify one. I thought your kind all naturally had a sense for the rest of us.”

“A...what?” Jeremy muttered tiredly.

“I think you’re too out of it to really discuss this,” Vagabond dismissed, “We can talk more after you’ve recovered. For now-“

“Dooley!” Jones’ voice suddenly interrupted, “What the fuck?!”

He was by Jeremy’s other side in an instant.

“What happened?!” He demanded, “What did he-What the fuck did you do?!”

He directed the last at Vagabond who scowled at him.

“I didn’t do anything!” Vagabond snapped, “You should watch your mouth before it runs where you can’t follow, boy.”

“I will fucking mace you, old man,” Jones growled.

“You could never be quick enough to hurt me before I destroy you,” Vagabond countered coldly.

“You can eat my fucking ass, you arrogant fuckhead!” Jones snapped back.

“Shut...up,” Jeremy croaked, “You both...suck.”

“I agree,” the voice from before grumbled, “Get the hell out of my workspace, you’re disturbing the patient!”

“But he-“ Jones and Vagabond started together.

“Out!” 

The two left the room, muttering under their breath and the other person helped Jeremy sit up and drink something that tasted like blackberries. 

“Alright, you can sleep now,” they assured him.

“Thank you,” he whispered before promptly falling asleep.

Dr. Jack Pattillo shook her head at Dooley’s sleeping form. _Poor kid._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kicking this shit off, but the next chapter rewinds to see things from Ryan’s perspective.
> 
> So I’ve been not even thinking about posting any new stories (or rather starting to post the incomplete drafts I have sitting here) because I’ve been to focused on the current ones and my original crew that’s inspired by FAHC. So that’s why there’s still only two current stories.


	11. Chapter 11

Ryan watched Jones pacing back and forth outside medical. _I should’ve noticed sooner._ Poor Dooley must not have experience with mares and Ryan had been too distracted to notice he’d been targeted. Jones, on the other hand, was a human and would’ve had no idea what was happening either way. Like all regular humans, he was useless.

“Don’t you have work?” Ryan sneered.

“My job is to fucking protect him,” Jones fired back, not faltering in his pacing.

“Protect _him?”_ Ryan snorted, raising an eyebrow.

“Er, them, I meant,” Jones corrected, “The inmates. I protect _them.”_

“Right,” Ryan muttered, rolling his eyes, “Nothing will happen to Dooley while I’m here, so you can return to your duties.”

“You’re not my fucking boss, Haywood,” Jones growled, “Push around whoever the fuck else you want to, but you’re not fucking pushing me around. Or Dooley.”

“How quick you change your tune,” Ryan commented, “Weren’t we just allies?”

“Barely,” Jones scoffed, “Working together to distract him from that blondie sunshine fucker barely counts as allies.”

“And here I was about to make friendship bracelets,” Ryan deadpanned.

Jones stopped pacing and his laughter burst out of him like it took him by surprise.

“Shut the fuck up, asshole,” he snorted, but there was no malice in his voice.

Ryan nearly flinched in surprise. _I made him laugh._ His lips twitched. _How the hell did I even end up here laughing with Jones of all dumbasses?_

** Between Two and Three Weeks Ago **

Ryan couldn’t breathe as he watched the unfamiliar shorter man walking through the cafeteria. He was entranced by his sparkling eyes, his confident stride, his pretty lips, his swaying hips. The man oozed sex appeal and was absolutely beautiful. Ryan watched him stop and turn to talk to someone. The someone dropped something that Dooley bent to pick up. Cat calls startled Ryan from his trance and he realized a large portion of the cafeteria was totally captivated by him. Holding their attention almost... _supernaturally._ A siren?

The siren bent over again, this time in Ryan’s direction and Ryan only just barely stifled a groan. And he couldn’t stifle his cock hardening in his pants. Then the siren swayed, shaking his ass and Ryan was burning with need. 

“What’s it worth, fellas?” The siren called, voice bright with amusement, “Highest bidder by lights out claims my first night.”

_Anything._ Ryan would give anything. Other inmates started throwing out offers and Ryan’s vision tinted red. _Mine._

_Crack! Snap!_

Ryan startled himself and everyone at the table by snapping the hard plastic food tray in half. He hadn’t even realized he’d been holding it. He cleared his throat, trying to tear his hungry eyes off the siren. He was like a plump, ripe fruit ready to be picked. Ryan wanted that fruit.

“Who is that?” He muttered at Ray.

“Short stack?” Ray grunted, waiting for Ryan’s nod, “Newest transfer. Just got in today. Dooley, Jeremy. Also known as Rimmy Tim. Class A, murder in the second degree. He’s served about four years of a 15 year sentence. Five cases of misconduct.”

Ryan watched Dooley walking away, eyes on his hips. He had a pretty good guess as to what those cases of misconduct were about. 

“Who is he bunked with?” He asked.

“Axial,” Ray answered.

“Wow, talk about opposites,” Gavin snorted.

Certainly that meant his cellmate wouldn’t be a cause for more misconduct. 

“Should I fetch the youngblood, sir?” Marks spoke up.

Ryan finally pulled his eyes from Dooley.

“No.”

He was tense, everyone was tense and he was staring at the ruins of his tray, mouth watering at the thought of the honey sirens called blood on his tongue. He hadn’t had a siren in...at least a few decades. Hadn’t had anyone in awhile, for sex or blood. Usually it didn’t even cross his mind. He couldn’t remember the last time his blood got rushing this quick. Nor could he remember the last time he was so warm.

“Keep an eye on him,” he murmured, “From a distance.”

“Yes, sir.”

Ryan gathered his tray and stood to toss it. Perhaps he should visit Jack and get real meal. He wasn’t scheduled for a few more days, but he’d gotten a bit haze-tinted there. Best not to risk going into a haze and hurting someone. How unfortunate Ramsey was on vacation and not there to warn him about the fucking siren. He also apparently hadn’t been there to determine what level of suppression the siren needed, allowing his allure basically free reign on the repressed population. 

After a quick drink of artificial blood in medical, Ryan went about his business as usual. Unfortunately, without meaning to, he kept finding himself near Dooley. At least a dozen other inmates approached the siren with offers. Ryan wasn’t surprised, the man got even his cold heart going. Ryan had no doubts about his allure powers, seeing as he was at least half-hard most of the day. Though that might’ve been contributed to by the fact Dooley had a body built for taking it. 

And fuck, did Ryan want to give it. Wanted to give it _hard,_ pressing him down over whatever flat surface he could find, bruising his plump little ass with his hips. Ryan’s mouth watered at the idea of biting into his neck while he slammed him hard enough to rattle his brains in his skull. Honey on his tongue and Dooley’s ass squeezing on his cock, Ryan was dizzy, warm at the thought. He ended up in his cell, jerking off for the first time in who knew how long, panting where he was leaned over the toilet. 

After that, his tension eased some, but he still couldn’t focus. He got his box of paint out and pulled one of the blank cards from it to relax himself with painting. He should’ve suspected he’d end up painting Dooley’s stupidly pretty face. He surrounded the portrait with siren lilies, fondly recalling when they still existed. He resisted the urge to brush his fingers over the bite he’d put on his neck, not wanting to smear the fresh paint.

“Sir, there’s a problem!” Marks announced as he suddenly rounded the corner.

Ryan blinked daze from his eyes and sat up.

“What, what is it?” He grunted, putting Dooley’s portrait aside.

“It’s the youngblood,” Marks answered, “Terry’s cornering him in the showers.”

Ryan was up and down the hall in an instant, speeding off towards the showers. 

“Too fast!” Marks hissed as he caught up.

Ryan slowed to a more human speed, a twinge of anxiety squeezing inside his guts. They didn’t get there before the guards, but they did get there in time for Ryan to see Dooley completely naked, dripping water, and scowling. 

“I was winning,” the siren grumbled.

_No doubt,_ Ryan thought, eyes trailing over his glistening muscles. He was covered in art, which looked amazing on him. Particularly the roses and the Phoenix on his back were gorgeous, reds and oranges bright and warm against his skin. Ryan’s throat was dry and his knees weak. Dooley was beautiful, enchanting, and every move he made was sensual. Like most sirens, he exuded an aura of sexual confidence, especially naked, that seemed to scream that he wanted to fuck all the time. Constantly. Ryan swallowed, throat clicking as he tugged at his shirt. _When did it get so hot?_

“Sir,” Marks grunted, “They’re gonna notice us.”

Fuck, when was the last time Ryan had felt hot like that?? He shook his head to clear it, retreating back around a corner. He watched a curly-headed guard guide Dooley off toward solitary. A newer guard. Jones, he thought was his name.

“As soon as he’s out,” he muttered, “Bring him to me.”

“Yes, sir,” Marks answered.

They watched more guards dragging Terry and his lackeys off toward medical looking utterly pummeled.

“Let me know when they’re out as well,” Ryan added.

He was going to teach them to keep their hands to themselves.

“Yes, sir.”

~

“Short stack is out of solitary, by the way,” Ray muttered. 

Ryan looked around at him.

“He is, since when?” He asked.

“Just this morning,” Ray answered.

A flare of annoyance squeezed in Ryan’s guts. Marks was supposed to bring him immediately. Before anyone else could get to him. Ryan wanted to stake his claim first. He shook his head, pushing that thought away. Sirens tended to be polyamorous, so even if the siren _did_ want to sleep with him, he very likely wouldn’t be his only partner. 

Sirens tended to be more hesitant in forming partnerships with other supernaturals too, since many of them couldn’t be compelled. Some could be allured or entranced, but not compelled, _controlled_ to do what the siren wanted. Not outside dangling their bodies like a carrot on a stick for whatever ass they were trying to control. But that wasn’t supernatural, that was just regular manipulation. Anyway, Ryan would have to work to convince the siren.

He figured offering his protection would be a good start. This would keep him out of the hole and available for Ryan’s use. Ryan frowned at himself. _I really need to stop objectifying him so much._ Just because sirens tended to do so themselves didn’t mean it was okay for him to do it. Anyway, protection was where to start. The siren liked receiving gifts in return for his favor, so Ryan would also offer him any contraband he wanted. What would he enjoy receiving? Other than Ryan’s cock in his ass. 

Ryan ground his palm between his eyebrows. _Get your shit together, Haywood! You’re too old for this behavior._ He refocused on the list Gavin had given him. _Just work. Stop thinking about him._ Unfortunately, Marks entered the library with Dooley in tow before he could do anything else. The siren’s eyebrows went up when he saw Ryan who stood at his approach.

“Mr. Dooley, yes?” He greeted.

The siren’s nose wrinkled up.

“Dooley or Rimmy, please,” the man corrected, “And you're Vagabond, right?”

“I think he’d prefer you call him Ryan,” Ray spoke up before Ryan could.

Dooley turned focus on him as Ryan considered hearing Dooley crying out his name. 

_ Ryan, you feel so good inside me! I love your cock, Ryan! Ryan, Ryan, Ryan! _

Ryan couldn’t breathe.

“I don’t think they’re quite there, X-Ray,” Gavin snickered, jarring Ryan from his fantasies.

_Right._ Ryan let very few people call him by his name. But if the siren wanted to whisper his name into his ear... And maybe he could call the siren Jeremy. _Jeremy, Jeremy, Jeremy._

“And who are you two, yin and yang?” Dooley snorted.

Ryan snapped back into himself. He was getting distracted.

“Brown and Gold,” he answered, gesturing to them one at a time, “My... associates. Feel free to ignore them completely as I do.”

“Awe, Ryebread, I’m hurt!” Gavin pouted.

“You may call me Haywood or Vagabond, as everyone else does,” Ryan continued on, ignoring Gavin as always, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He held out his hand which Dooley shook with a raised eyebrow. Ryan turned his gaze on Marks.

“You’re rather late, are you not?” He spoke coolly.

“I’m sorry, he moves quick,” Marks grunted, ducking his head.

_Moves too quick for a werewolf?_

“See that you keep up better next time,” Ryan suggested.

“Yes, sir.”

Marks moved on and Ryan refocused on Dooley.

“Please sit,” he murmured, gesturing at the seat across from him as he sat, “I was hoping to work out an arrangement with you.”

“I’m shocked,” Dooley snorted.

Then he suddenly hopped on the table and slid over, propping his feet up against the chair on either side of Ryan’s knees. Ryan’s heart began pumping quickly. _Wow, he’s...no one ever gets this close. So bold._

“Okay,” Dooley agreed, presumably to the arrangement.

“Okay?” Ryan grunted, frowning at him, “I haven’t told you-“

“Don’t care,” Dooley interrupted, shrugging.

Ryan sat back, confused and hesitant. _Is he...after something? Was he sent by someone?_ Perhaps he was merely a bit of a gold-digger. Sirens tended to have ambitions, but usually they preferred easy to control partners. Perhaps Dooley saw Ryan as weak. That annoyed Ryan.

“I think you might call this win-win,” Gavin snorted.

Dooley hopped into Ryan’s lap, putting his arms around his neck. Ryan grunted as his warmth settled on him. He looked eager, excited. No one ever looked... _happy_ to be near Ryan.

“So when’s first?” Dooley asked, pressing closer, “We in a blind spot right now?”

_ Now?? _

“We...are,” Ryan answered carefully, “But we’re not exactly alone.”

“Do you expect to be in prison?” Dooley scoffed.

A fair point.

“Welp, I’m out,” Ray announced, hoisting himself up and starting to shuffle for the door.

“Don’t leave without me!” Gavin huffed as he hurried to follow him.

Ryan waited until they were gone to focus on Dooley. He carefully laid his hands over the siren’s beautiful thick thighs. _Boundaries. I should ask his boundaries,_ he thought as he ran his hands upward. He probably knew Ryan was a vampire, sirens had a sense for that. Ryan’s hands settled on Dooley’s hips and he met his pretty brown eyes which were sparkling with amusement.

“What...am I allowed to do to you?” He whispered.

_Can I taste your honeyed blood?_ Dooley hummed and reached between them to cup Ryan’s crotch. Ryan puffed out a surprised breath as Dooley groped his hardening cock. _Whoa, okay. We’re moving forward already._

“I can take that with some spit and a can-do attitude,” Dooley assured him, “You can put it in my ass.”

Ryan felt warmth flood through him and he sat up eagerly. 

“I can do that  _ now?” _ He murmured.

He nearly winced at how horny he sounded. It had been...so long he didn’t even want to talk about it. Dooley took Ryan’s right hand off his hip and closed his mouth around his index and middle fingers. _Oh, fucking fuck._ Ryan made a pathetic noise, a sort of strangled moan as he watched Dooley suck his fingers, coating them in spit. _Fuck, that’s fucking sexy._ And it made Ryan want his mouth on his cock so bad. Probably ill-advised with how desperate he was. Might hurt him accidentally.

Dooley lifted on his knees, pushing his clothes down and his mouth opened. _Oh, I can do this. I know this. Relax Haywood, fucking relax!_ He reached around Dooley who hummed, sounding pleased as Ryan pressed his finger deep inside him. He wrapped his other hand around the siren’s pretty cock, rubbing up his shaft as he moved his finger in and out of him. 

“You can go faster,” he assured him, “I’m used to stretching.”

Ryan pressed his other finger inside him and the siren pitched forward slightly, gripping at Ryan’s shoulders. Then his hips started rocking, fucking his ass onto Ryan’s fingers. If he was enjoying just this much, wouldn’t he love having Ryan’s cock inside him? Ryan shuddered, pressing his face into Dooley’s neck. He found his pulse instinctively, lips brushing lightly over it. His heartbeat just barely ghosting against Ryan’s lips drove Ryan crazy. His blood was searing through him, his heart pounding in his chest as though to match Dooley’s. He was dizzy with the warmth. He couldn’t breathe right, struggling to focus on being careful with Dooley’s ass. 

“Take your dick out,” Dooley suddenly grunted.

_He’s ready already?_ Ryan pulled his hand off the man to push his waistbands down. His cock flipped free, pressing up to his shirt immediately with how hard he was. Dooley squinted down at his cock. Then he tugged at Ryan’s waistbands himself, looking around his cock. _Wha?_

“What...what are you doing?” Ryan huffed, confused and breathless.

“Checking,” Dooley muttered, “I’m ready.”

_Checking for what?_ The man scooted backwards off Ryan’s lap and dropped to the floor. Ryan easily and happily spread his legs to give the siren room. _Fuck, he’s going to-_ Dooley wrapped his mouth around Ryan whose mind went blank. He groaned breathlessly as Dooley’s hot mouth slid down on his cock. Dooley pulled away quickly and got back up in Ryan’s lap.

He turned and gripped the table as he shifted back. Ryan gripped his spit-coated cock to guide it to where it belonged. There was some resistance, naturally and Ryan was a bit worried, but Dooley was puffing out breathless sounds of pleasure as he slid onto Ryan’s cock. Ryan’s eyes rolled back as Dooley pressed snugly against him, their pelvises slotting together. _So warm. Hot. Burning._ He ran one hand up Dooley’s shirt and the other down his thigh. _Fuckfuckfuck._ He mouthed against the siren’s neck and moaned, muffled against his skin. He wanted to taste his hot, sweet blood.

“I-I’m alright, you can move,” Dooley grunted.

Ryan’s hands immediately moved to his waist and he lifted him, eager to begin. He lifted and lowered him, a bit slowly to ensure he was easing properly into it. Dooley leaned back into him, letting go of the table and ran a hand up Ryan’s arm. His hand paused on Ryan’s bicep and Ryan grasped that he was attracted to physically strong partners. He flexed, blatantly trying to show off his muscles, hoping they were enough to keep Dooley interested. Dooley squeezed lightly. 

“Come on, you’re not gonna hurt me,” he coaxed, “Get to it.”

Ryan lost some of his caution, his grip on the man’s waist tightening. He held the siren still as he thrust up into him. He was panting and groaning in his ear, hips slamming desperate and hard against his ass. _Fuck fuck fuck!_ The siren covered his mouth to stifle his own groaning and his free hand went around his leaking cock. _Getting off on me abusing his ass, fuck. Fuck!_

Ryan stilled, breath stopping as he came in the siren’s hot, squeezing ass. _Miserere mei._ He hissed when the siren tightened on his sensitive cock as he came in his own hand. _I should’ve done that,_ he lamented. He reached around Dooley to grab tissues, trying to hurry and clean up. He was annoyed by the little wet spots on the crotch of his pants. Anyone who saw him would know and it was none of their business, despite his fantasies of fucking Dooley in front of others. 

When they were in order, Dooley turned, putting his arms around Ryan’s neck. Ryan smiled, eyes roaming over him. _Mm. I think I needed that._ He put his arms around the siren, pulling him closer. _So warm._ Dooley smirked at him, looking smug. _He certainly seems to enjoy his effect on people._

“How often do I get to have that?” Ryan hummed.

“How often do you want it?” Dooley countered.

Ryan looked down hesitantly, watching his hand move over Dooley’s thigh. As much as he loved the thought of fucking Dooley every day, he was too rough for that. He’d let some of his control slip and Dooley was going to feel that for at least a day or so. Ryan’s chest squeezed with a twinge of guilt. Besides, the more he did it, the more lasting effects there would be. He needed to keep him healthy if he wanted to keep using him. 

“Would...weekly be too much to ask?” He murmured, hesitantly meeting Dooley’s eyes.

Dooley looked surprised by the offer then he winced, likely feeling the soreness catch up with him. 

“Alright, weekly’s okay,” he agreed, “That’s less than usual, but you fuck pretty hard. I wasn’t expecting that. Or any of this. You have defied expectations.”

Ryan smirked. _Defied expectations. I impressed a siren._

“Then you enjoy this arrangement?” He prompted, “I take care of you and you spend time with me?”

“Nope, that part is stupid,” Dooley answered, “I don’t need protection.”

Ryan frowned.

“I know you don’t,” he assured him, “I have no doubt you can defend yourself. Discouraging others from attempting to assault or fight you isn’t about your ability. It’s about keeping you out of the hole.”

Dooley leaned forward, grinning as his nose brushed against Ryan’s. Ryan’s heart fluttered. It sure was moving a lot with Dooley around.

“And in your arms?” Dooley guessed, his breath hot on Ryan’s lips.

“Yes, I can hardly have sex with you if you’re in solitary confinement,” Ryan confirmed, “Anyway, the suggestion that I am protecting you is hardly enough for what you are providing me. Especially seeing as it is really more selfish motivation. I intend to take care of your needs and wants in return for your company.”

Dooley pulled back, eyebrows going up.

“You’re gonna give me whatever I need or want just for weekly boning?” He scoffed.

“I would take more than weekly if I thought you physically capable of it,” Ryan snorted, “But if I demand too much, you’ll get worn out too quickly and I won’t get much use from you.”

Dooley laughed, looking delighted by this response. Ryan wasn’t sure why. It was such an awful thing to say or think. _I shouldn’t be so rude even if he doesn’t care._

“Alright, I agree to your terms,” the siren mused, “But you are getting way less from this than I am, just so you know. You’re definitely getting cheated here.”

Ryan looked down hesitantly, hand running over Dooley’s thigh again. Something cold squeezed in his chest. He wanted...more. He was craving the warmth Dooley’s influence brought. He’d been so...cold. 

“Then perhaps you could...spend time with me...outside sex?” He suggested quietly.

“You want a lap warmer?” Dooley grunted, sounding surprised.

“No, you wouldn’t have to sit on my lap,” Ryan dismissed, “Just nearby. Whatever is most comfortable for you, I’m sure you have preferences.”

_Just keep me warm._

“And if I wanted to sit in your lap?” Dooley prompted, raising an eyebrow.

Ryan cleared his throat.

“I would...like that,” he admitted.

“You know it tends to make you look less intimidating,” Jeremy pointed out.

Ryan felt cold seeping into his guts, accompanied by annoyance. The siren really thought he was weak, didn’t he? He looked up, meeting the siren’s warm eyes. _Do not mistake me, siren._

“I don’t need to look intimidating,” he spoke lowly.

Dooley grinned for some reason.

“Well then, I think we have an agreement,” he announced.

He pulled back a bit to hold out his hand. Ryan hesitated. Did Dooley not have much experience with vampires? Maybe he wasn’t totally sure what Ryan was. Some sirens were better at sensing than others. Either way, Ryan couldn’t make a binding contract with him by shaking his hand. That was too much of a risk. Something else, something less binding...Ryan felt warmth in his cheeks. Traditional dealings for sirens used kisses. It would be binding for Dooley, but not for Ryan. 

“Perhaps we could seal it traditionally... with a kiss?” He murmured.

“Whatever you desire, boss,” Dooley joked before leaning in.

Ryan’s breath caught a second before Dooley’s lips landed. _Miserere mei._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up, the next several chapters at least will continue in the rewound timeline from Ryan’s perspective. So you get to see just how dumb and horny Ryan is.


	12. Chapter 12

Ryan smiled at Dooley’s portrait, some of the warmth in his chest and between his legs lingered when he looked at it. He was so warm. His smile faded as the cell doors unlocked. _Back to the grindstone._ What he did was for the betterment of humanity, he knew, but sometimes it was...lonely. Being withdrawn, emotionless, and...cold. He put Dooley’s portrait away, the last of the warmth fleeing him as Marks dropped down from his bunk.

“What’s on the agenda, boss?” He mumbled as Ryan sat up.

“Speak with Dooley,” Ryan answered, “Get a list of what he’d like me to procure for him. Then go speak with Asher to get his list as well and return to me.”

“Yes, sir,” Marks grunted.

“You’re to continue to watch Dooley as well,” Ryan continued, “Be sure he doesn’t find himself in trouble, but try not to be intrusive.”

“Yes, sir.”

“After breakfast, I will be bringing him here,” Ryan added, “So I will ask you to stay away for that time.”

“Yes, sir.”

Ryan met Gavin and Ray on the way to the cafeteria and they went together to collect their trays. Ryan hesitated before collecting the second tray for Dooley. Dooley had experience in prison, he’d know it was an invitation, but would he be inclined to accept an invitation from Ryan? He was a bit hotheaded and very independent. He might be offended by the offer. But...he _had_ agreed to be near Ryan outside of sex. 

Ryan sat down with the two trays and placed Dooley’s across from him. He shifted it, carefully making sure it was perfectly straight. 

“Full moon coming up,” Gavin reminded him.

“Indeed,” Ryan murmured, “I presume everything is in order?”

“Yes, everything’s ready,” Gavin assured, “The new moon-shifter is orientated. Ray got them up to speed already.”

“Good,” Ryan grunted.

“Also I finally got the new whiskey,” Gavin added, “The one Fish wanted so bad. Should be coming in later today.”

He started chattering on about the process of getting the whiskey which Ryan didn’t care about. _Why does he always do this? So many words. Just condense them into what I need to know and leave it._

“Shortie alert,” Ray muttered.

_What?_ Ryan looked around at him and then followed his gaze. Dooley was striding toward them with purpose. _He’s accepting._ Ryan sat up straighter. _He’s accepting!_ Suddenly a CO blocked Dooley’s path. Jones, the foul-mouthed new one. _What is he-?_ Jones gripped Dooley’s arm and started dragging him, stumbling from the cafeteria. 

_Thump! Clang!_

The table shook and the trays all jarred as Ryan’s fist came down on it. He was lucky his fist didn’t go straight through it, but at the time he couldn’t see anything. His vision was tinted too red with fury. _Protect your mate._ He stood, only to be grabbed by Ray and Gavin, tugging his arms.

“Whoa, easy, Ryebread,” Gavin soothed, “Let Marks follow him.”

Ryan growled low in his throat. _Must protect what’s yours._

“Ryan,” Ray called, “Come on, he’s going to be fine. Stay with us.”

His hand rubbed Ryan’s fist, coaxing it into relaxing and Ryan slowly sat back down. He shook his head, grinding his palm into his temple as Ray squeezed his hand in both of his.

“Stay with me, buddy,” he murmured.

Ryan puffed out a weary sigh. Jones was new, he was probably hauling Dooley off to his supervisor for misconduct or something. _Okay. It’s okay. He’s not going to hurt him and I’ll make sure if it’s a write up, they dismiss it. Everything’s okay._ He jerked his hand out of Ray’s sharply and Ray backed off immediately. _Okay, I need to see Jack again after I show Dooley to my cell._ He had relaxed significantly by the time Marks appeared.

“Sir?” He grunted, “I have news about the youngblood.” 

“Did you get the list?” Ryan prompted.

“He said he didn’t have anything,” Marks answered, “But there’s something else. With Jones.”

“What about Jones?” Ryan grunted.

Marks leaned down to speak in his ear and Ryan turned to listen.

“He’s seeing Jones as well,” Marks muttered, “He dragged him into a supply closet and they had sex.”

Ryan felt his insides turn to solid ice. His mask slammed in place defensively and he blanked out before any one emotion could overtake him. Though jealousy, insecurity, and utter rage were all strong contenders. 

“Shortie’s back,” Ray announced.

Ryan turned his head to watch Dooley’s approach. The blankness faded as he stood to greet Dooley. Even from several feet away, Dooley’s warmth reached him. Like...like _sunlight._

“Mr. Dooley, it’s a pleasure to see you again,” Ryan greeted truthfully, “Would you care to sit with me?”

He gestured at the tray across from him where the empty space was, reserved for him. Dooley raised an eyebrow at the tray then pushed it toward Ryan as if to reject the offer. Ryan felt disappointment clench in his guts. _Why did he even walk over here just to reject me?_

“Very well,” he murmured, sitting back down.

The tension the rejection brought was transferred to the other occupants of the table. Ryan tried to keep down his disappointment for their sake as he watched Dooley round the table. He sat between him and Gavin, much closer to Ryan than anyone was sitting next to anyone else at the table.

Ryan jumped a little, surprised again with Dooley’s lack of hesitation, but he turned, almost instinctively opening his body language toward him. Dooley’s warmth radiated through him like he was a fire. The table began speaking among themselves again and Dooley started eating his food.

“Marks said you had no requests,” Ryan muttered, “But surely there’s something you can think of?”

“Not really,” Dooley answered, shrugging, “I’ll let you know as soon as I do.”

“Well, please feel free to request anything,” Ryan assured him, “We will do our best, within reason.”

He turned back to his food, though he didn’t bother eating. _You can’t think of anything for me to give you, but you get something from Jones, don’t you? He obviously gives you something. Why else would you go to him instead of me?_

“I would hate for our arrangement to be unsatisfactory to you,” he added, snider than he meant to.

_Jones is just a human, why would you ever pick him anyway??_ No doubt younger and less experienced by far. And a crude little boy too. Ryan had heard him speaking. Fuck was his favorite word. Ryan hesitated as a thought struck him. _Would_ Dooley pick Jones? Or was Jones forcing him? He _had_ dragged Dooley out of the room. Marks could’ve misunderstood, it’s not like he was in the closet with them. Jones could very well have ill intent. Perhaps since he was a guard, Dooley wasn’t resisting. Worry and anxiety squeezed in his chest and he turned back to Dooley, leaning closer.

“I...just want to be certain,” he spoke quietly, so only Dooley could hear him, “That  was consensual?”

“Completely,” Dooley answered.

_Oh, thank goodness._ Ryan felt relief and calm settle over him, but a fierce protectiveness remained in his chest.

“Be sure to let me know if you  are being harassed,” he spoke firmly, “I will have it dealt with, guard or prisoner.”

Dooley shifted closer to him, pressing his leg to Ryan’s, surprising him again. _So bold._ Ryan shifted to move his arm behind him so he didn’t knock the other man’s elbow and watched Dooley’s face pull up as he frowned down at his now-empty tray. With muscles like that, he must be hungry all the time. 

“You’re still hungry?” Ryan guessed.

Dooley leaned over and stole a bite off his tray, grinning at him. _Ah, he knows I don’t necessarily **need** to eat._ Though it helped keep the craving down. Ryan pushed the tray closer to him so he could reach it better. Dooley’s grin widened.

“Thank you!” He chirped, “I’ll thank you properly later.”

He lifted his fist up to his open mouth and moved it back and forth with a choking sound. Gavin choked on laughter and the rest of the table stifled snorts. Ryan slammed his mask back on to stop himself from shoving Dooley’s face into his lap.

“Please finish eating,” he muttered, “I have somewhere to take you.”

“Whatever you desire, boss,” Dooley answered cheerfully as he went back to eating.

Neither he nor Ryan commented on Ryan’s arm settling around his waist. Ryan considered the situation while Dooley ate. He’d known there would be others, he wasn’t surprised. Yet he was _still_ jealous. He wanted, at the very least, be at the top of Dooley’s list. _You can be number one if you eliminate all your rivals,_ he thought darkly. 

He pushed that thought from his mind. No, he would simply show Dooley that he was his best choice. _Am I? I didn’t even get him off._ Maybe that was why he was dissatisfied and why he went along with Jones. Next time, he’d make sure Dooley got off. He would show him he was better than the cuter, younger guy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I guess this chapter wasn’t posted??? Oops!


	13. Chapter 13

After Dooley finished eating, Ryan led him back to his cell. Though sirens didn’t need permission to enter a living place, he wanted to ensure Dooley knew how to properly give a vampire permission. Just...so he knew. 

“You are welcome at any time,” he murmured as he stepped inside and moved aside, “Should you need some place safe.”

He swept a hand out to invite Dooley in.

“So formal,” Dooley snorted as he stepped inside, “You had your dick in me, you can relax, buddy.”

Ryan couldn’t tell him the real reason he was being so formal without embarrassing himself.

“I am perfectly relaxed,” he grumbled.

“Uh-huh,” Dooley grunted, rolling his eyes as he stepped further in the cell.

Ryan nervously watched him looking around. He hadn’t considered what his cell might say about him to the siren. They were alone though, this would be a good opportunity to pry, to find a way to beat his rival. Dooley sat on his bunk and Ryan sat beside him.

“Dooley, what do you do with your free time?” He questioned.

“Work out mostly,” Dooley answered, leaning back to look under the top bunk, “Run. Play cards. Stare at walls in existential dread. Chess, if I’m feeling smart. Draw. The usual stuff.”

He felt under the top mattress, above the frame.

“What are you doing?” Ryan wondered.

“Looking for contraband obviously,” Dooley snorted, “Where’s your stash? Toilet?”

“Ah.”

Ryan turned toward Dooley and leaned sideways to the wall. He pulled the string hanging from the wall and revealed his stash.

“Whoa, fancy,” Dooley murmured, “You must’ve been here for awhile to rig this up.”

_ Since the beginning. _

“Indeed,” Ryan muttered, “You’re welcome to anything but the letters and the box.”

“What’s in the box?” Dooley asked, peeking into the hole.

Ryan hesitated. He didn’t want to share anything that might be used against him later, but of course he shouldn’t lie.

“Paint,” he grunted.

“Paint?” Dooley repeated, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Paint,” Ryan confirmed, closing the panel back, “We’re getting off topic. You draw, you said. What do you draw?”

“Just whatever I think of,” Dooley answered, shrugging, “Why are you interrogating me?”

“I just want to know more about you,” Ryan murmured.

_I want to learn how to keep you._ He tapped his fingers on his knee. _I want to know how to be better than him._

“I do not mean to meddle in your personal affairs,” he began, “But Marks was following you earlier, to ensure Jones had no ill intent and completely unintentionally overheard the...encounter in the supply closet.”

“Did he get off too?” Dooley muttered dryly.

Ryan threw him an unamused look.

“Spit out what you’re trying to say already,” Dooley grunted, annoyed.

Ryan sighed. 

“I want to know the nature of your relationship with him,” he admitted.

“The nature of my relationship with everyone,” Dooley answered.

He lifted his fist to his open mouth as he started to make the blowjob motion again, but Ryan put his hand on his, pushing it down. 

“Yes, I gathered that much,” he grumbled, “So you...service him in return for what then?”

“Chocolate while I was in solitary,” Dooley admitted, “Usually I don’t give it up so easily, but it was solitary. Didn’t have a lot of options.”

Convenience was Jones’ way of getting him the first time. Of course it had to be something like that. Dooley wouldn’t go searching out such an inexperienced young man.

“And earlier?” Ryan prompted.

“He promised to bring me something at lunch,” Dooley mused, “Probably more food if I had to guess.”

_ What?? The first time was good enough to warrant a second time on a promise?!  _

“And what did he get in return?” Ryan pressed.

“Blowjob the first time, handy the second,” Dooley snorted, “You’re interrogating me again. Just tell me what the problem is already.”

“I think you should know, he’s very new,” Ryan blurted, “Green, I mean. I’m sure he’s very naive and inexperienced. I would not think him very fitting for someone as experienced and...talented as you.”

_I am way better than that-that **boy**! Didn’t you say I defied expectations?! Why do you need him?!_ Dooley grinned at him.

“You’re so jealous,” he laughed, “It’s seriously adorable.”

Ryan’s face went warm and annoyed embarrassment flooded through him. _Jealous of the boy?? Adorable??_

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he huffed, “I have nothing to be jealous of. He’s just a naive boy. And boys like him are fickle too, you know. He’ll probably change his mind quickly.”

He straightened his shirt and cleared his throat, annoyed at being flustered. _Keep it together, Haywood. You’re acting like a child._

“I have lived far too long to be bothered by a mere boy,” he concluded coolly, “And I am  _not_ adorable.”

Dooley put his arms around Ryan’s neck, grinning up at him. Ryan’s heart fluttered at the grin and at his closeness.

“Come on now, be honest,” Dooley coaxed, “I may reward you if you tell the truth. You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

Ryan hummed, annoyed by the dilemma. Obviously he wanted whatever reward Dooley might give him. But...admit he was jealous?? Admit he wanted to be Dooley’s number one? Admit he was... _insecure?_ Admit he was acting like a child? He sighed again. Really, it was better to be honest about this anyway if he was going to convince the man to keep seeing him.

“I am trying not to be,” he grumbled, “But I want...”

He felt anxious with the idea of being open about his feelings and found himself reaching for Dooley for comfort. He hesitantly put his hands on Dooley’s waist, rubbing his thumbs over his sides. _I can be honest about this...I **should** be honest about this. _

“I want whatever you give him,” he muttered bitterly, “I feel like a petulant child, wanting to demand I be treated the same or even better, despite giving you no reason to do so. But I could. I will. If you would just tell me what you want, I-“

Dooley kissed him, interrupting the beginnings of a mad, desperate ramble. Ryan grunted in surprise and Dooley pulled back just as quick. Ryan’s heart was thundering in his chest and he was dizzy and warm from the surprise kiss.

“Wh...Why?” He wondered.

“You said you wanted everything he got, didn’t you?” Dooley mused, “We kissed quite a bit in that closet.”

Ryan cleared his throat, eyes dropping to Dooley’s lips. _Kissing, touching him, and his mouth on my cock._ He wanted it. Wanted Dooley to press his warm lips against his. Wanted Dooley to suck him off with his hot mouth. Wanted to touch Dooley’s hot cock, get him trembling in his grip. Wanted Dooley to come because of him, his hot come on Ryan’s hand. _Hot, hot, hot._ He wanted everything, wanted it so bad he was burning with it.

“Then...am I allowed what he is?” He murmured, clarifying.

_I’m allowed to touch you too?_ Dooley smirked as he pressed closer.

“You want me to give you everything I gave him?” He whispered lowly.

Ryan swallowed as his cock perked up further, very interested in the new lower tone of Dooley’s voice. He nodded, not trusting that he could say anything in an even, regular pitched tone. Dooley kissed him again, lips parting immediately to deepen the kiss and Ryan’s heart pounded harshly in his chest as he let out a shaky sigh and followed his lead. 

Their lips moved together and their tongues. Oh, fuck, their _tongues. Dooley’s_ tongue. It was so hot, soft as it slid over Ryan’s, brushing over the sensitive places Ryan had forgotten about. Ryan was shaking, dizzy, and hot as he pushed his hands up Dooley’s shirt. He moved slowly as he dragged his hands around his sides and up his back, giving Dooley time to pull away if he wanted. But he didn’t. 

Instead, Dooley pressed into him, trying to lay him out. Ryan went back eagerly, happy to get horizontal, to get closer. He easily spread his legs for Dooley to settle between them again, recalling what happened last time he’d done so. Dooley’s hand pressed against his hard cock, rubbing gently like he was checking to see how hard Ryan was. Which was astonishingly so. Ryan moaned softly in Dooley’s mouth. _Yes. Oh fuck, yes. Touch me touch me touch me more. More more more._

Dooley pulled up, his reddened, slick lips twisting into a smirk. Ryan felt hotter and more desperate than he ever had before. _Miserere mei._ Dooley’s face flushed darker and he bit his lip. _He’s enjoying this too,_ Ryan hazily registered with a flutter in his chest. Dooley shifted back and took hold of Ryan’s pants and underwear to tug them down. Ryan sat up on his elbows, unable to bear the thought of looking away from Dooley. 

Dooley’s eyes stayed on his as his tongue laved up Ryan’s cock. Ryan made a truly pathetic little whimper at the sight, thighs twitching inward. Dooley closed his mouth around him and Ryan’s hands tightened into fists in his mattress. Dooley sank down about halfway so easily Ryan’s head spun and his hips twitched up. He groaned breathlessly as Dooley choked, his throat squeezing around his cock. A tiny flicker of guilt and worry was dismissed as Dooley quickly pushed down further, swallowing and pushing past his gagging until Ryan’s cock was buried fully in his throat.

He held a moment, letting Ryan pant and moan softly a moment as he choked on his cock. _Oh oh oh!_ Dooley’s throat was hot and tight and squeezed Ryan’s cock just right. Then Dooley was moving, wrapping his hand around Ryan as he slid his mouth back up, sucking his cheeks in as he went. _Fuck!_

He moved his mouth and hand together, quickly working Ryan toward orgasm while Ryan did little but tremble and stare, unable to look away as he watched his cock disappear in Dooley’s mouth over and over again. Tension wound up in Ryan as he puffed out tiny, high-pitched moans, desperation building as he felt himself getting close.

“‘M gonna c-come,” he huffed, breathlessly trying to warn Dooley, “Nnh, f-fuck. Fuck fuck  _fuck!”_

His hips slammed up into Dooley’s face as he came and he fell flat to the bed. He shivered as Dooley swallowed and pulled off him, panting breathlessly. Dooley moved around while Ryan tried to get his organs to work properly again. His lungs and heart ached from overuse and he was struggling to make his eyes focus properly. The downside to being undead was sometimes your cold, sluggish body couldn’t keep up. He was lucky Dooley seemed to radiate so much warmth or he might not be able to...perform consistently.

Speaking of, he thought as he sat up. He gripped Dooley’s shirt and pulled him into his chest. _Your turn._ He put his arms around him, hand sliding down his torso. _Let me take care of you, dulce meum._ Dooley’s hand snatched his wrist as his hand started to slip into his pants. Ryan made a noise of complaint as his hand was pulled away and Dooley shifted away from him.

“You said you would give me what he had,” he grumbled.

“Hm, did I?” Dooley hummed, raising an eyebrow at him, “As I recall, I simply asked if that’s what you wanted.”

Ryan started to argue, but paused. _Oh, that...is what he said. He...tricked me. Only a little, but still._ Ryan felt amusement instead of annoyance for once. 

“You’re quite the clever little siren, aren’t you, Rimmy Tim?” He mused.

“I’d like to think so,” Dooley answered, grinning.

Ryan felt warm fondness spread in his chest. He leaned forward and took Dooley’s face in one hand, tilting his head to kiss him lightly. Dooley didn’t stop grinning against his mouth. _Miserere mei, mi dulcis._

~

Ryan was having a very pleasant lunch with Dooley when the brat decided to interrupt. 

“Dooley,” Jones greeted gruffly.

Ryan shifted slightly closer to Dooley, staring Jones down. Jones’ eyes were hot as fire on him, refusing to back down. He had spine, Ryan would give him that.

“Heya, Jonesy,” Dooley chirped, “What’d you bring me?”

_Jonesy. That’s a nickname._ Ryan felt a flare of childish jealousy. Jones put a small plate in front of Dooley and took a napkin off it to show it was a slice of cheesecake. Dooley straightened up, clapping his hands together and bouncing a bit in his seat. Ryan smiled softly at his excited state. Even if he wasn’t the cause, Dooley still looked adorable. 

“Good choice then?” Jones chuckled lightly.

“So good!” Dooley groaned around the bite he’d already taken, “It’s been forever!”

Jones grinned, throwing a smug look at Ryan who was glad he wasn’t holding anything or he’d have snapped it in annoyance. _Smug little brat._ The table was getting wound up, tensing. Ryan was trying to relax, but was finding it difficult with Jones still hovering. Dooley suddenly held up a spoonful of the cheesecake to Ryan.

“Here, I’ll share with you,” he offered lightly.

Ryan’s annoyance faded at Dooley’s soft, encouraging smile and he opened his mouth to accept the bite. Jones was glaring when Ryan looked back at him, smirking. 

“Shouldn’t you be doing your job, Jones?” Ryan sneered.

“Great idea, Haywood,” Jones fired back, “Maybe I should search you for contraband.”

Ryan felt the rise of cold anger in him. _Do you really think you hold any power over me?_

“I don’t think you want to go down that road, boy,” he answered.

“Don’t I?” Jones snorted, “Isn’t it my fucking job,  _old man?”_

_ Old man! Someone should teach you manners, brat! _

“Excuse me, Rimmy Tim?” A light voice cut in, drawing everyone’s attention.

Ryan recognized the blonde as one of the supernaturals, but couldn’t place his typing off the top of his head.

“Can I help you?” Dooley grunted.

“I hope so,” the man answered cheerfully, “I’m West.”

He leaned over the table slightly to hold out his hand to Dooley who gripped it.

“Well, as you know, most call me Rimmy,” he returned as they shook hands, “Nice to meet you.”

“You as well,” West answered as they withdrew, “I’m a bit of a card player, I’ve been hoping to find a good partner to play with. You seem like just the type of charismatic man I’m looking for. Come to the rec room after dinner if you’d like to play.”

Something about the way he was trying to flatter Dooley churned Ryan’s stomach. _Is he flirting with him?_

“I’ll think about it,” Dooley assured him.

“Hope to see you there!” West chirped before tottering off.

Dooley looked away from him, but Ryan found himself glaring as he watched the man leave.

“Anyway, you two done being idiots?” Dooley grumbled, “Or shall I just tell you whose dick is bigger?”

Gavin choked on laughter and Ray let out a sharp “ha!” Meanwhile, the rest of the table was tense again. Ryan was embarrassed at being caught acting jealous again.

“You are right,” he muttered, “I should not engage in such juvenile banter.”

Jones’ fists clenched at his sides and Ryan suppressed the urge to smirk that his word choice had annoyed him.

“Whatever, I’ll see you later, Dooley,” he grumbled before storming off.

Dooleysighed. Ryan felt a sick swell of pride that he had reacted the more mature of the two. Though he knew he hadn’t really, he’d just been more sly with his immaturity. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 👀


	14. Chapter 14

Ryan bustled through the prison, looking for Ray and Gavin. _Where the hell are they?_ He couldn’t ask Marks, he was following Dooley. Usually, when he couldn’t find Ray, he was in the greenhouse. Gavin could be with him or zipping around the prison retrieving and/or delivering contraband that had no current value to Ryan right that moment. No, Ryan only needed contraband for Dooley right then. It was all he cared about.

Ryan went to the side door of the kitchen, looking out the window toward the greenhouse. He could just barely see someone with dark hair moving around inside. Probably Ray. Ryan turned, glancing at the sun hanging in the sky. He could wait, but who knew how long Ray would be out there. He wanted to get the gift for Dooley before dinner, so he’d be too distracted to play with West. 

Ryan hesitated, but shook his head firmly. He was fast enough, he could make it with little damage. It would hurt like absolute hell on earth, but then the greenhouse windows would protect him while he healed. He twisted the doorknob and flung open the door, darting quickly out of it. He hissed as the sunlight seared the skin of his face, neck, and arms. It almost hurt enough to distract him from getting to the greenhouse.  


He was there and inside in a blink of an eye, but he was obviously still damaged. _Cursed star._ He hissed viciously as he leaned one arm against the door, begging his body to heal faster. _Fuck, this hurts!_ Just as bad as he recalled, the fiery feeling across his skin, drowning him in burning pain. 

“What the hell are you doing, Ryan?!” Ray demanded, by his side in an instant.

“Had to...need your...get the,” Ryan panted, dizzy at the pain and the smell of his own charred flesh.

Ray pressed something to his lips which easily parted to accept it. He crushed the soft fae berry between the roof of his mouth and his tongue. The taste of siren blood flooded his senses and he almost groaned out loud as his eyes fluttered closed. His skin itched as it quickly repaired itself, the effects of the fae berry spreading through him like cool, soothing water. It was gone too quick, leaving the aftertaste of ash on his tongue.

“More,” he groaned.

“No,” Ray grunted firmly, “No getting addicted, asshole.”

Ryan whined at him. 

“Why are you here?” Ray questioned, “What stupid reason do you have for doing that?”

“I need you and Gavin to help me acquire some things,” Ryan answered, rubbing at his tender face.

“It couldn’t wait?” Ray grumbled.

“No, I need it before dinner,” Ryan explained.

“Oh, right, you’ve got prep for tomorrow,” Ray recalled.

_Right. Moon time. Sure, that could be the reason._

“Vav!” Ray shouted over his shoulder.

“Whassit?” Gavin’s sleepy voice called from deeper in the greenhouse.

“Ry needs help, get off your lazy tails,” Ray grumbled.

Gavin crawled out from under one of the tables, yawning and stretching his back.

“Isn’t it my break time?” He grumbled as he got to his feet.

“You don’t have break time,” Ryan pointed out.

“Hell are you doing in the sunlight?” Gavin wondered.

_Trying desperately to keep something I don’t deserve._

“I didn’t have time to wait for the dark,” Ryan explained.

“Right, moon tomorrow,” Gavin recalled, “What do you need?”

“A journal,” Ryan answered, “And colored pencils.”

Dooley would be so excited about being able to draw with proper colored pencils, he would be distracted from the card player. Ryan pictured Dooley brightening up, like he did when Jones gave him the cheesecake and warmth spread in his chest. Perhaps Dooley would really like the gift and smile excitedly again. Ryan deflated as he glumly recalled that he’d be too busy to see if he got as excited as he had when he’d gotten the food. 

After burning to get back in the building and another berry to heal, Ryan, Ray, and Gavin spent the rest of the daylight running about the place, trading entirely too much contraband for Dooley’s gift. Well, “entirely too much” was relative, since Ryan would’ve paid double the cost. Ryan was disappointed they only managed to get all the primary colors, a couple secondary colors, and brown, but he’d get him more as time went on. 

Once he had all the pieces, he gave Gavin and Ray instructions to ask Dooley if there was anything else he needed and let him know there was something waiting for him in his cell. Then he began wiring a note on the first page of the journal.

_ Mr. Dooley, _

_ I hope you find this gift to your liking. Needless to say, you should keep this hidden. Please let me know if there is something else more to your liking. _

_ Sincerely, _

He hesitated on how to sign it. “J. Ryan Haywood” was how he signed official things, it was his formal signature. “Ryan Haywood” was the informal one. “Ryan H or R. Haywood” was how he signed notes to Ramsey, Jack, Gavin, and Ray. He found himself wanting to simply write “Ryan”. Maybe because he wanted Dooley to call him Ryan. 

He had the first line already drawn when he thought better of it. No, they...weren’t there yet and Dooley called him Vagabond anyway. He finished the partial R with a second line to make it into an odd looking V. Well, close enough. Dooley probably wouldn’t notice the oddity. He hesitated as he looked over the note.

He found himself wanting to see how Dooley saw the world. He wanted to see what he saw. He wanted to... _feel_ what he felt. Ryan wrote a post script in a spontaneous burst, encouraged by the thought of sharing something special like this with Dooley. 

_ P.S. Perhaps, if you are comfortable with it, you could show me some of your drawing some time? _

He bundled up the journal and pencils and headed over to drop them off. Axial was there, sleeping, of course. Ryan hesitated to disturb him. He didn’t want to just toss the gift in though. He hit the cell door with his fist, the equivalent of knocking on a regular door.

_ Clang! _

Axial groaned.

“Pardon me, Mr. Bragg?” Ryan called into the cell, “I apologize for disturbing you, but I have something for Dooley.”

“Who the fuck is Dooley?” Axial mumbled into his pillow.

“Your cellmate,” Ryan answered, “Others call him Rimmy Tim.”

“Oh, the slut,” Axial murmured, “Can’t you just toss it in?”

_Slut. Has he...?_

“I don’t want to break the lead of the pencils,” Ryan explained.

Axial sighed, rolling out of bed to retrieve the present.

“You called him the...slut,” Ryan grunted, “Have you slept with him?”

“I’ve barely seen the dude,” Axial snorted as he took the journal.

“Has someone else done so here in your cell?” Ryan pressed.

“No, but everyone keeps showing up asking for Rimmy Tim,” Axial grumbled, “It’s been like five days and I’ve met half the population wanting this guy’s ass.”

_Oh, right._ That made more sense. 

“And you send them away?” Ryan guessed.

“Obviously,” Axial sneered, turning back toward his bed, “Anyway, I’m fucking tired.”

Ryan puffed out a relieved sigh at that. Maybe his cell mate could help him figure out what Dooley might need or want. 

“What does he do when he’s here?” He asked.

“So far he’s barely been here,” Axial pointed out as he flopped down.

“Has he complained about not having anything?” Ryan pressed.

“Dude, I don’t fucking know anything about him,” Axial huffed in his pillow, “Stop asking me.”

Right, he’s obviously been sleeping too much to know. Ryan winced, a hint of guilt flaring up in his chest for disturbing the man. _He must be so tired..._

“Right, I apologize,” he murmured, “Could I get you something to thank you for your time?”

“Maple syrup,” Axial grunted.

“Oh, yes, of course,” Ryan agreed, nodding, “I’ll acquire it as soon as I can. Thank you for your time.”

He bowed formally and turned to leave.

“You’re welcome, I guess,” Axial grumbled.

It really was unfortunate that the dryads couldn’t have trees. But trees were an escape risk. Besides, it would only provide so much help to them, not being their origin tree. 

He headed off for the moon wing to begin preparation for the full moon the following night. Jack was already there with most of the moon-shifters.

“Ah, about time,” she grunted, “I was starting to wonder.

“I had an errand,” Ryan muttered distractedly, “Are the others on their way?”

“Yes, Collins, Tuggey, and Marks are gathering up the last of them,” Jack confirmed, “Are you ready to get started?”

“Yes.”

The moon-shifters lined up and Ryan and Jack stood at the head of the line. 

“The moon beckons you,” Jack murmured, holding up her hand directly in front of the first shifter.

Ryan focused on the shifter as her palm began to glow. They shuddered and twitched at the light. The convulsions overtook them as they transformed into their half form. 

“You will stay calm,” Ryan ordered.

The half form shuddered and stilled. Jack closed her hand into a fist and the shifter shrank back into human form as the moonlight disappeared. 

“Next,” she called.

The shifter stood aside to let the next step forward. Ryan found his mind drifting. _I wonder how pure-blooded Dooley is. Can he shift like the ancient lineages of sirens? I bet his form would be beautiful. So few of those left (if any) though._ Such beautiful creatures and oh, the noises they made when you touched their wings just right. Ryan could picture Dooley’s body twisting under his hands as his fingers brushed through his soft raven feathers.

“Haywood!” Jack snapped.

Ryan jumped, blinking back into the job at hand. The snarling half form in front of him was watching him carefully, body wound up like it was preparing to attack.

“You will stay calm,” Ryan ordered.

The shifter growled, stepping forward. A burst of cold instinct exploded in Ryan’s chest and he bared his teeth, snarling.

“You will stay calm,” he ordered lowly.

The half form shivered and whimpered, retreating back the step they’d took forward. Jack closed her palm and they shrank into their human form, shuddering.

“Haywood, a word,” Jack muttered tightly.

They moved out of the wing, out of hearing range.

“What the hell is going on with you?!” She demanded, “Extra eating and now you’re distracted at moon time??”

Ryan did not want to admit it was his dick getting him into trouble.

“I apologize,” he murmured, “Things have been a little unusual with Ramsey absent.”

Technically not a lie.

“What, you miss Geoff?” Jack joked.

“Is that this one’s given name?” Ryan deadpanned.

Jack smacked his shoulder.

“Don’t be a dick,” she snorted, “You love that dumbass.”

“Are dead people capable of love?” Ryan wondered in a breezy tone.

Jack’s eyes narrowed at him.

“Is that what this is about?” She questioned, “You struggling with a lack of humanity or something?”

“Oh my, no,” Ryan mused, “In fact, I’m acting completely human.”

_It’s rather pathetic, really._

“You know that’s allowed, right?” Jack grunted, frowning, “You’re allowed to be a person, not just a refrigerator for other people’s emotions.”

_Am I?_ Ryan had lived many years with his empathy link, training the intake to weaken, the output to strengthen, and training his ability to focus it. He had trained himself emotionally too, to feel less and less, retreating further and further into his corpse of a form until he was made of solid ice. Though it must have really been glass he was made of, since now he was shattering. Falling apart the second a warm hand touched his surface.

Or rather the second a warm ass touched it, because Ryan was apparently a pig. 

“Maybe _you_ should take a vacation,” Jack snorted.

Ryan squinted at her in confusion.

“What?” He grunted.

“A vacation, like Geoff,” she grumbled, “Maybe you should take one. Haven’t you been here 200 years?”

“Don’t exaggerate,” he muttered, “It’s been 172.”

“Wow, what a difference,” Jack scoffed, rolling her eyes, “I’m just saying maybe you should get a break too.”

“Why?” He wondered.

“Are you actually stupid or do you just act like you are?” Jack countered moodily, “Everyone needs breaks sometimes and I think 200 years should have accumulated a few vacation days.”

“It’s only-“ Ryan started.

“Shut it,” Jack interrupted, “Just get your head on right and finish moon time. Then think about it.”

_Vacation._ As if he could possibly consider that with thousands of people counting on him. Though, he thought, maybe it would help to get away from certain... _things._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic bullies me. That’s why it takes so much longer to write it.


	15. Chapter 15

Ryan was practically bouncing. Marks had told him Dooley was using his gift when he checked in on him the night before. First of all, it meant Dooley didn’t play with West. But secondly, it meant Dooley liked the gift. _He liked it, he liked it!_ He couldn’t wait to confirm with Dooley that he _had_ liked it.

Unfortunately, he’d been too busy in the morning, so he had to wait for lunch. And then the brat returned before Dooley did. Ryan really hoped this wouldn’t be a recurring event. Naturally, as annoyance wound up in his chest, the rest of the table wound up as well. Jones scowled at him as he reached out toward Dooley’s tray. Ryan’s hand shot out, grabbing his wrist to stop him from tampering with Dooley’s food. 

“Watch it,” Jones growled.

Ryan looked at the thing he was holding. Not poison. _Paper._ Ryan let go to let him drop it.

“What could you possibly be writing to Dooley?” He sneered, “I very much doubt you’re a poet.”

“It’s none of your fucking business, asshole,” Jones grumbled.

“Everything that happens in this facility is my business,” Ryan fired back.

“You really believe your own hype that fucking much?” Jones snorted, “Fucking Christ, old man, get a grip.”

“Are you inviting him to a closet again?” Ryan grunted, suddenly worried.

“Again, none of your fucking business, asshole,” Jones answered.

“I only ask because I am worried about him,” Ryan muttered coolly, rolling his eyes, “He was...sore before.”

Jones stared him down and Ryan stared back. _Search me as hard as you want, puer, you will find nothing._

“I would never hurt him,” Jones finally spoke firmly, “I doubt you could honestly say the same.” 

He turned on his heel and walked away in a dismissive manner. _Stultus puer!_ Ryan snatched the note from Dooley’s tray, pushing away the feeling of guilt at meddling. 

_please meet me in the chapel after you eat_

A cold, tight fist squeezed in Ryan’s guts. _Chapel._ Other than the cells, it was one place Ryan could not follow them. 

“Ray, is Jones a hero?” He muttered.

“Ramsey didn’t say he was,” Ray answered, “Doesn’t he usually tell you directly, anyway?”

“Yes, he does usually,” Ryan murmured, “And Jones began before Ramsey went on vacation, so he would’ve told me.”

He folded the note and put it back on the tray. _A coincidence._ They were known to happen. But...that seemed like quite the stretch. Jones picking a place where Ryan could not follow while being in a profession that commonly employed heroes, who could tell what a supernatural was just by looking at them? That was quite the coincidence. 

But how could Ramsey have missed that Jones was a hero, being a hero himself? A strong hero too, with an impeccable hero lineage. If a Ramsey hadn’t seen him, there was no way he could be a hero. Unless he’d just not told Ryan, but he always told Ryan. He always pulled Ryan into his office to meet the new heroes, just so Ryan knew for sure which correctional officers were in the loop and which weren’t. It was really an inconvenience for Ramsey to be on vacation right then. _You’re a fifth generation pain in my ass, Ramsey._

Dooley arriving distracted him from his anxious thoughts. Ryan brightened up. _Right! He liked my gift!_ Dooley sat and read the note, frowning. 

“What the fuck?” He grunted.

“Jones dropped that off,” Ryan explained.

“Ohh, okay,” Dooley muttered, “Seemed ominous with no name on it.”

“I get the feeling Jones doesn’t do a lot of writing,” Ryan snorted.

“Well, not everyone’s so great with words, you know?” Dooley pointed out as he began eating.

Ryan felt warmth in his face. 

“You...think I’m good with words?” He murmured.

“I mean, you certainly know a lot of them,” Dooley offered, “And you have a tendency to get them in a good order.”

“Thank you,” Ryan laughed, “I think that’s the best compliment I’ve ever received.”

“You’re welcome,” Jeremy grunted, “You seem in a good mood today.”

“I’m pleased that it seems you liked my gift,” Ryan admitted, “Marks said you were using it when he checked in on you last night.”

“It was a good gift,” Jeremy agreed, smiling warmly at him.

Ryan was glowing, he was pretty sure. He was so warm. Dooley felt like sunlight or at least how Ryan thought sunlight felt before. He couldn’t really remember properly. 

~

“Ry? Ry?? Ryan?? _James!”_

Ryan jumped at the sound of his first name, looking around at Jack.

“What?” He grunted.

“I’ve been calling out to you for like a full two minutes!” She huffed, face and voice filled with annoyance.

“I apologize,” he murmured, “What is it?”

“That’s what I want to know,” she grumbled, crossing her arms, “What is going on?”

_What **is** going on?_ Ryan wondered as he looked out the window at the moon. He was supposed to be monitoring the moon-shifters with Jack. Instead he was spacing out. He wasn’t even sure what he’d been thinking. He wasn’t sure about most things any more. What he was feeling. What he wanted. What was happening to him.

“Ry, I’m serious about this vacation thing,” Jack muttered, “I think you need a break. I think being so cold so long has fucked you up.”

“I don’t think that’s the part that fucked me up,” Ryan snorted, “I think it’s finally feeling something again that’s ruining me.”

He’d barely had feeling downstairs before Dooley sauntered in. Ryan smiled lightly, thinking of Dooley’s confident stride and his pretty grin. His heart fluttered. Nor had he felt his heart enough to really notice either. 

“Then you need to take a break to think about how you feel,” Jack suggested.

“There are people relying on me,” Ryan dismissed, “I can’t just stop.”

“Don’t go on vacation then,” Jack insisted, “Just pull back from your duties a bit. Let the others take over at least a little. Take more rec time.”

_I’ve already taken so much with Dooley lately. I should be working more not less._ He’d been too selfish. Really, he should be pulling away from the man. He was becoming a liability.

“Ry, you’re no help to anyone if you’re too distracted to do the job anyway,” Jack pointed out.

She _was_ right about that. 

“I’ll...take it under advisement,” he muttered.

Jack looked out the window, opening her mouth to add something, but then closing it, frowning as she squinted.

“What are they doing outside?” She wondered.

Ryan followed her gaze to see a form he easily recognized now. Dooley and West were outside in the yard, talking and smoking. He moved for the window, trying to get close enough to hear. 

“-become good little boys in Real Reform,” West was snorting, “Perfect little sheep, shuffled into place by our perfect little Shepard.”

_What?_ Dooley hummed thoughtfully as they paused.

“I would feel bad if I didn’t warn you, Rimmy,” West muttered, “Vagabond is a dangerous being to tango with. You seem like you can handle yourself, but still, fair warning.”

Ryan’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. 

“Thanks, I guess,” Dooley snorted, “Hopefully it doesn’t go down as quick as I do.”

West choked on laughter and Dooley laughed too. Ryan felt a little relief that Dooley didn’t seem to take the warning seriously. Still, why? Was West genuinely worried about him or was he just trying to pull Dooley away from Ryan? And what was with that sheep comment? It seemed rather rude. Ryan didn’t shuffle sheep...did he?

Ryan watched the two of them head back. He braced his forearm on the window, suddenly feeling exhausted. 

“Have I...even made a difference?” He whispered.

Jack squeezed his shoulder.

“Of course you have,” she assured him, “You’ve changed a lot of lives. You know you have piles of mail in Ramsey Manor saying so.”

The letters from former inmates had gotten so numerous he couldn’t possibly even think about keeping them in his cell. He’d have to take out all three walls and then some to hide them away. He had. He’d made a difference. And it mattered, what he did. 

But...he wanted more. He wanted a bright grin pointed at him. He wanted the warmth in his chest. He wanted that presence beside him. He...wanted to continue being selfish. He wanted  Jeremy Dooley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loreeeeee


	16. Chapter 16

Ryan situated the cup on Dooley’s tray perfectly straight. He moved it around the tray a few times before deciding how he liked it and waiting eagerly and impatiently for Dooley to arrive. Gavin said he mentioned ice cream and Dooley brightened like the sun when Jones gave him food. _He’ll like it and he’ll smile at me. He’ll be happy._

Dooley looked a bit tired, but otherwise was his usual self as he sat and waved at the others. He noticed the ice cream and looked around at Ryan. Ryan tilted his head toward him. _He...does like it, right?_ Dooley grinned and scooted closer to Ryan, pressing up to his side. Ryan put his arm around him, his lips twitching into a smile. His heart was fluttering like a little trapped butterfly.

“Thank you!” Dooley chirped as he opened the ice cream.

“No thanks necessary,” Ryan dismissed, “Didn’t I agree to take care of you?”

“Mmyeah, but still,” Dooley muttered, shrugging, “Thoughtful of you to pay attention to what the twins told you about the interrogation.”

A flash of annoyance and protectiveness filled Ryan.

“Interrogation?” He repeated coolly.

“Hah, I’m sure he’s just being funny,” Gavin hurriedly spoke up, “We just asked him what he wanted, like you said.”

“Vav threatened him with a spoon,” Ray cut in immediately. 

“X-Ray!” Gavin whined.

“I believe I was clear about how you should treat Mr. Dooley,” Ryan pointed out coldly.

The table was tense again.

“I was mostly polite!” Gavin huffed.

“It’s okay,” Dooley assured Ryan, “He was just worried about you. You got good friends, y’know? Here, share my ice cream with me.”

_Good friends._ Dooley lifted his spoon and Ryan’s annoyance melted away again as he opened his mouth to accept the bite. How could he stayed annoyed when Dooley was there?

“Hey, Rimmy?” West called.

Ryan and Dooley looked up and around at him.

“Hey, partner, what’s up?” Dooley greeted cheerfully.

_Partner._

“Just wanted to know if you’re playing tonight,” West asked, grinning, “I know we won big, but I’m a bit of a chain-smoker.”

“Sure thing,” Dooley agreed, “Not like I have a lot of recreation options.”

“You got that right,” West snorted, “See you then.”

“See you,” Jeremy returned as West moved on.

Ryan watched the man go, filled with worry and jealousy. They seemed to have fallen in together very easily. 

“You’re friends with the card player,” he commented.

“Yeah, we hung out yesterday,” Dooley confirmed as he went back to eating, “We’re pretty good partners in Spades, actually.”

“Do you have enough for betting?” Ryan asked.

“I do now,” Dooley answered, “West did have to put down the initial bet, but I’m good now.”

“Very well,” Ryan murmured, “Let me know if you need anything.”

_Please, I can give you whatever you want, I can be better than him._

“Hey, actually,” Dooley grunted, turning to look up at him, “I was trying to draw you, but I couldn’t remember your face right. Could I hang out with you today to get it?”

Ryan’s face was warm. _Draw me? Hang out? With **me**??_

“You want to draw me?” He mumbled.

“Yeah, I mean, is that alright?” Dooley muttered, “Actually, I didn’t think it might be a bit rude to do it without asking.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Ryan quickly assured him, “I was just surprised.”

He hesitated. Really, he had things to do, but his conversation with Jack the night before resurfaced in his mind. His selfish desire to pursue Dooley strengthened inside him.

“Yes, we can...hang out,” he agreed, “I have a little bit of open time now.”

“Great!” Dooley chirped.

He finished eating both their trays of food then they went off to his cell so he could pick up the journal. Axial lifted his head.

“Hey, thanks, Vagabond,” he grunted.

“No thanks necessary,” Ryan assured him, “The gift was thanks for your patience.”

“Still, very quick and you definitely didn’t have to,” Axial insisted.

“I keep my word,” Ryan muttered.

Dooley rejoined him at the cell door.

“You got him his syrup then?” He guessed as they headed for Ryan’s cell.

“Indeed,” Ryan confirmed, “I fear I was rude to him.”

“I dunno that rude’s the way he told it,” Dooley snorted, “You’re just real keen on following through.”

“I keep my word,” Ryan repeated.

“You can relax a bit,” Dooley assured him, “You’re keeping your word just fine. I’ll say something if you aren’t, okay?”

Ryan glanced at him hesitantly. _But what if you aren’t satisfied? Won’t you find someone else? Then I will be left cold and alone again._ He figured he must be coming off as pushy though.

“Okay, I will try to stop being so overzealous,” he agreed as they made it to his cell, “I can’t promise this though. Where would you like me to sit for you?”

Dooley had him sit on his bunk while he sat at his table.

“Who’s your cellie by the way?” Dooley asked as he began.

“Marks,” Ryan answered.

“Convenient,” Dooley grunted.

“I think you will find many things turn out convenient for me,” Ryan muttered.

“Like what?” Jeremy prompted.

“Guards looking the other way,” Ryan murmured, “Contraband going missing just before a random search. Cases of amnesia in injured inmates. Convenient little things like that.”

_I am of way more use than West or Jones. You will never have to worry about anything again. I will take care of you._

“Why is that?” Dooley wondered.

“Influence,” Ryan answered, “I would say influence is something you understand.”

“Do I have influence over others?” Dooley mused.

_What is he saying? Of course he does!_

“Of course,” Ryan confirmed, “Your allure is quite powerful.”

“Er, thank you?” Dooley offered, sounding uncertain.

Ryan suddenly remembered something.

“You mentioned you play chess occasionally,” he recalled, “Perhaps we could play some time?”

“You play?” Dooley prompted.

“When Gold is in a more even mood,” Ryan answered, “So not very often.”

“You don’t have anyone else to play with?” Dooley pressed.

Loneliness squeezed in Ryan’s guts.

“Not particularly,” he muttered.

“So what do you do for fun then?” Dooley wondered.

_Why does he want to know?_ Ryan again felt nervous to share anything about himself. Every personal fact about a person was a potential weakness. But...wasn’t this something they could share? A thing to compare with Dooley, to talk about, a point of contact between them.

“I...paint,” he admitted quietly.

“Oh, that’s what the paint in the box is about,” Dooley guessed, “What do you paint?”

“Small portraits,” Ryan murmured.

“Of who?” Dooley pressed on.

“It’s whoever strikes me at the time,” Ryan explained.

“I guess that’s me as well,” Dooley mused, “I don’t even know why I started drawing you.”

“Inspiration rarely has reason,” Ryan muttered.

“Hey, maybe you should paint me sometime and we could trade,” Dooley laughed lightly, “I’m joking, just to be clear.”

Ryan’s face was warm again. He looked away, embarrassed. 

“I’ve...already painted you,” he confessed hesitantly.

“Really?” Dooley grunted, “That’s pretty fast, isn’t it?”

“Perhaps,” Ryan mumbled.

“Could I see it?” Dooley asked.

Ryan was sure that wasn’t a good idea. The portrait exuded sex almost as much as Dooley did. Dooley might be offended by his objectification. However, he also didn’t want to outright tell Dooley “no”.

“Perhaps after yours is finished,” he offered weakly.

“It’s no big deal,” Dooley assured him, going back to drawing, “I was just curious about how you see me.”

“I...don’t know that it will be very...flattering,” Ryan replied carefully.

“Do I seem like someone who needs to be flattered?” Dooley scoffed.

“Of course not,” Ryan dismissed, “I meant more unflattering for me. I fear you won’t like how I see you.”

“Can’t be as bad as some guys,” Dooley muttered, “But it’s alright, I’m not trying to pressure you.”

Ryan did not like how he said the first part of that. Again he was encouraged by the desire to share something special with the man. And by the fact Dooley was a siren. He would be less likely to be offended by such things.

“I...I will show you,” Ryan agreed, “When yours is done.”

“Awesome!” Dooley chirped, grinning.

Ryan could’ve exploded with happiness at that bright grin. They were mostly quiet while Dooley finished his sketch of Ryan. He brought it over to Ryan who blushed hotly. _Is that what I look like?? Oh fuck, I look so desperate! That’s so embarrassing!_

“It’s...really good,” he murmured.

“Thank you,” Dooley returned, smiling warmly, “I’m glad you think so.”

Some of Ryan’s embarrassment melted away at Dooley’s easy smile. He turned to retrieve the box and carefully slipped Dooley’s portrait out. Dooley looked over it a moment.

“Wow, this is amazing!” He exclaimed, “I love it!”

Ryan was warm in this face again. _Amazing?? Me??_

“R-Really?” He stammered.

Dooley looked up at him and Ryan felt it difficult to keep his gaze.

“Yes, really!” Dooley laughed, “You’re really good. And I’m really flattered, I look so great!”

_ He must be exaggerating, trying to be nice. _

“Th-That’s very kind of you,” Ryan mumbled, “But I feel I’ve objectified you. I...”

He tapped his fingers on his thighs.

“I see more than that now,” he assured Dooley quietly, “This is not the sum of how I see you.”

“Aw, you’re making me feel all warm and gushy,” Dooley joked, “It’s okay. Isn’t our whole relationship based on objectification anyway?”

“Perhaps,” Ryan conceded, “But you are still a person.”

“Are you saying you value me as a person?” Dooley teased.

_How could I not? You’re so amazing. Confident, beautiful, intelligent._ Ryan hesitantly met Dooley’s eyes. _Will he be...put off by this?_

“I would be a fool to value honey only for the sweet taste,” he spoke softly.

Dooley grinned and leaned forward to kiss him. Ryan couldn’t help but smile against his lips. _Sicut mel dulce._


	17. Chapter 17

Dooley looked exhausted as he shuffled into the cafeteria. The last several days he’d been getting more and more tired. He seemed to not be sleeping well at night. Ryan felt a twinge of worry as he watched West accost Dooley. _Have I been stressing him out? Perhaps my pushiness is bothering him._ Dooley brightened a bit and accepted something from West and Ryan was too worried to even be that jealous. (Still, he _was_ jealous, just not _that_ jealous.)

Dooley made his way over and sat. He didn’t even wave to the others at the table like he usually did. Ryan turned toward him, touching his lower back. 

“How are you feeling?” He prompted.

“I’m fine, better now,” Dooley answered, “I’m still pretty tired though.”

_Tired._ Ryan could...hold him while he slept. That could help, right? _Cuddling._ Ryan leaned closer, heart pounding in his chest.

“Perhaps we could go to my cell?” He offered under his breath, “I have free time and you could get some more sleep.”

_Let me hold you._

“Before or after you bang me?” Dooley sneered.

Ryan frowned. 

“That’s not-“ he started, but stopped, stiffening as the brat approached the table.

Certainly he didn’t think Jones was any help, always coming over to spew curse words at Ryan. Ryan put his arm around Dooley. _Fuck off, brat._

“Dooley, I brought you something,” Jones muttered gruffly, putting it in front of Dooley.

Dooley barely glanced at the candy as he pushed it away. _Ha!_

“I’m too tired for that,” he grumbled.

“What?” Jones grunted, “No, it’s not for that.”

Ryan snorted, rolling his eyes. _I’m sure._ Jones shot him a glare.

“Something to say, Haywood?” He growled.

“I think you speak plenty for yourself,” Ryan answered coolly, “Your presence only when it rewards you, speaks volumes on your character.”

“Fuck you!” Jones snapped, “I’m around more than just for that!”

“Yet every time you’re with him...” Ryan countered, letting him finish the thought on his own.

“Th-That’s just-!” Jones sputtered, “I-I have a fucking job! It’s not my fault!”

“Perhaps not,” Ryan agreed, “But does it not mean you’re not around enough? Even if it’s out of your control?”

“A-Are you trying to say I’m not fucking good enough?!” Jones demanded.

“I would never dream of it,” Ryan dismissed, “I’m sure I don’t need to point out your inadequacies.”

“You’d know about inadequacies, wouldn’t you?” Jones sneered.

Ryan tensed, the table tensed. _Did he just-?!_

“What did you just say to me,  _ boy?” _ He growled, low and cold.

“I said I doubt you stack up,  _ old man,” _ Jones taunted.

“Shut the fuck up!” Dooley interrupted, standing, “I am so fucking sick of this! You are longer-“

He pointed to Jones.

“You are thicker,” he added, pointing to Ryan, “By fucking centimeters, so congratulations, neither of you are more impressive than the other.”

He took his tray and stormed over to where West was sitting, plopping down beside him. 

“Who the fuck is that guy?!” Jones hissed, “Every damn time I turn around he’s there!”

“West,” Ryan grumbled, “They play cards together. I don’t trust him.”

“He’s after something,” Jones agreed.

_Aren’t we all, really?_ Ryan and Jones watched Dooley laughing with West a moment. Then they looked at each other.

“Can I talk to you alone?” They asked each other.

“Meet me in the library after breakfast,” Ryan suggested.

Jones nodded agreement and went off back to his post. Ryan watched Dooley like an absolute creep for the rest of breakfast, his mood steadily declining. Without Dooley’s warmth beside him, he felt so empty. 

~

Ryan slipped the book into its place, filling the empty slot on the shelf. He glumly wished it was so easy to fill the hole inside him. Jones entered the library and Ryan could’ve sighed with relief.

“Haywood,” Jones grunted as he came to his side, “We need to talk about blondie. I’m pretty fuckin’ good with intuition and something’s telling me there’s something fucking off about him.”

_Intuition._ Ryan glanced at Jones. _He **is** a hero. _Perhaps a very weak and untrained one, but he was one nonetheless. Why had Ramsey failed to mention this? Ryan pushed the thought away. He would address that later.

“I agree,” he murmured, moving along the shelf, “I believe he has unsavory intentions.”

He slipped the next book into the right place.

“So what the fuck do we do?” Jones prompted.

“We stop fighting,” Ryan answered, “Our rivalry will only push Dooley into reaching out to West. Besides, we’re being petty and childish. It isn’t fair to Dooley to put him in the middle of this.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Jones admitted begrudgingly.

Ryan had to fight down a swell of smugness at hearing Jones say he was right about something.

“What do we do about blondie though?” Jones prompted, “How do we figure out what he’s up to?”

“Leave that part to me,” Ryan dismissed, slipping another book onto the shelf, “I will discover his true intentions.”

“Then what the fuck do I do?” Jones grumbled, “I can’t just sit here.”

Ryan hesitated. This part of the plan he wasn’t super thrilled with.

“Tonight, you take Dooley to the greenhouse,” he murmured, “And keep him distracted while I have a conversation with the card player.”

“Your plan is for me to fuck Dooley?” Jones snorted.

“I can’t very well distract him _and_ speak with West,” Ryan murmured, “And no other person can distract Dooley from his usual routine of playing with West after dinner. It has to be you.”

_Unworthy little puer._

“Wow, you hate this,” Jones laughed.

Ryan’s jaw clenched and he put the last book in his arms onto the shelf. 

“I do not want to work with you,” he admitted, “But I don’t exactly have a lot of options if I want to remove West from Dooley’s presence.”

“You’re so jealous,” Jones taunted.

Ryan felt warmth in his face and his fists clenched.

“Don’t be ridiculous!” He snapped, “What could I possibly have to be jealous of?!”

“The cute younger guy stealing Dooley away?” Jones snorted.

“I-I would hardly say you’re stealing him!” Ryan huffed.

Jones’ eyebrows went up.

“I meant blondie,” he grunted.

Ryan’s face was warm. _Oh, oh no. I just implied I think he’s-_

“Neither of you are stealing him,” he muttered, pushing on, “He is not an object to be owned or stolen. Anyway, you should write him an apology as I did. Then if he accepts, you can invite him to the greenhouse.”

“And what will you do with West?” Jones prompted, eyes narrowing.

“Make him tell me what he’s after,” Ryan answered.

“You’re not gonna hurt him, are you?” Jones questioned, frowning.

_Yes, he is definitely a hero. They’re all such moral pains in my ass._

“Not if he cooperates,” Ryan replied carefully.

Jones just stared at him a moment.

“Actually, just-I don’t want to know,” he finally grumbled, “Whatever the fuck happens, I know nothing.”

“Ignorance is something I’m sure you don’t have to feign very often,” Ryan snorted. 

Jones quite suddenly seized his shirt, yanking him down the couple inches of difference in their height.

“Listen to me, you smug little fucker,” he growled in Ryan’s face, “I don’t fucking trust you either. My intuition tells me you’re trouble, so I’m fucking watching you. I will not let you hurt him, do you understand?”

Ryan gripped his wrist tightly, pulling Jones’ hand from his shirt.

“I would advise you watch who you threaten, boy,” he spoke cold and low, “You hold no power over me and I hold no reservations in teaching you to behave more civilly. Correct your behavior or I will correct it for you.”

Jones’ pale throat bobbed as he swallowed and Ryan felt sick smugness at the show of nervousness. 

“Whatever,” Jones muttered.

He turned and stormed off. Ryan let him, though he felt the urge to make him stay until he dismissed him. Felt the urge to exercise his authority over him. Teach him who the alpha was. Ryan shook his head, moving to the cart to get the next stack of books. He couldn’t recall ever feeling such a strong urge to force someone to recognize his authority. Usually he was more collected than this. _Where is my head even at these days? Other than in the clouds._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So chapter 12 got skipped somehow? It’s up now though, so you can go back to read it. Hopefully that’ll eliminate if there was any confusion. 😅


	18. Chapter 18

Ryan felt like a dark cloud was following him. Dooley had yet to make a reappearance. _My apology wasn’t good enough. I’ve been such an asshole. He’ll never want to see me again. I’ve ruined everything._ The whole cafeteria was glum alongside him, his influence spreading well past his table. But he couldn’t stop the gloom. _I have to be better, but I don’t know if I can. I don’t know if I know how._ He needed to be in control again, everyone was suffering because of him. Further proof he was being a selfish asshole.

“Short stack, 12 o’clock,” Ray announced.

Ryan looked up at Dooley who was looking at him and looking much better. Ryan’s mood lifted almost instantly. _He’s coming back! He’s giving me a second chance._ _And he looks less unwell too._ West interrupted the mini celebration happening in Ryan’s heart by accosting Dooley again. _Will you fuck off??_ They talked a moment and then West was on his way. 

Ryan felt so relieved as Dooley came and sat beside him. _I don’t have to let go yet._ Even though he knew he shouldn’t, he wanted to keep a hold of Dooley as long as he could. He put his hand on the small of Dooley’s back. 

“How are you feeling?” He murmured, “You’re looking better.”

“I am,” Dooley assured him, “Got a nap in. Thank you for the painting, by the way. I accept your apology.”

Ryan smiled, warm and genuine as his heart lifted.

“I’m so glad,” he admitted.

Dooley smiled back and Ryan’s heart could have exploded. 

“Dooley,” Jones grunted.

Dooley and Ryan looked over to find him in front of the table, looking away. 

“Did you get my note?” He mumbled.

“I did,” Dooley confirmed, “I accept your apology as well.”

_Good, the plan can move forward then._

“It’s unfortunate neither of you could get fresh flowers,” Dooley added jokingly, “But I think I like the art more anyway.”

_Jones left art as well?_

“Origami isn’t art,” Jones protested.

“It definitely is,” Dooley insisted, “And it’s beautiful.”

“Um, th-thanks,” Jones stammered, face adorably pink, “G-Gotta go before my coworkers start to notice how much time I’m spending here. Also, here.”

He pushed a folded up note across the table toward Dooley who picked it up. _Good, good. Everything is moving forward._

“See ya, Jonesy,” he chirped.

“See you,” Jones agreed.

He glanced at Ryan.

“Haywood,” he muttered, nodding his head.

_Look at you behaving like a good little boy._

“Jones,” Ryan returned, also nodding.

Jones went off and Dooley read the note.

“There’s a greenhouse??” He demanded.

_Yes, how else would the nature spirits remain productive?_

“Of course,” Ryan answered, “We grow what fruits and vegetables we can for the food here. It’s a work detail. Do you have interest in being put with the growers?”

“Er, no, not really,” Dooley dismissed, “I don’t really have a preference. Anyway, I’ve never seen a greenhouse in a prison before.”

“I imagine there is much about San Andreas Correctional you haven’t seen elsewhere,” Ryan mused, “The greenhouse is usually empty at night however.”

He tried not to give Dooley a pointed look.

“You fuck up the plants, you’ll see what an  actual dangerous person can do with a spoon,” Ray spoke up.

Ryan felt protectiveness flare up inside his chest.

“Watch it,” he warned lowly.

“Don’t worry,” Dooley placated, “I have great aim.”

Gavin choked next to him, sputtering on laughter and mashed potatoes. Both Ryan and Ray gave Dooley an exasperated look while he grinned widely. Ryan’s heart still fluttered and relief flooded his system at that grin. _He really is doing better._

“Great, now we have two little shits,” Ray muttered dryly.

“Well, if we get rid of Gold, we’ll be back down at a tolerable number,” Ryan offered.

“Oi!” Gavin squawked, “I was here first!”

“Yeah, but I’m prettier,” Dooley laughed.

Gavin made anoise of protest and the rest of the table laughed. Ryan felt warmth as he laughed lightly. Dooley was such a positive influence, really. Who would have guessed after all the distraction he’d provided?

After eating, Dooley headed for the greenhouse, followed by Marks at a significant distance. Ryan, Ray, and Gavin went to corner West who was headed for the rec room. He seemed to sense something was wrong because he ended up bypassing the rec room. Instead he went straight for his cell, moving out of reach inside it.

“Whatever it is, I didn’t do it,” he announced as Ryan stared him down from the door.

“Tell me what you’re after Dooley for,” Ryan ordered.

“After him?” West grunted, “The hell are you talking about?”

“You are after him for something,” Ryan spoke coolly, eyes narrowing, “Tell me what it is and do not lie.”

West glanced between the three of them.

“I’m an incubus,” he admitted, “But I’m suppressed, I can’t have sex with anyone. So I need to feed off sexual energy another way. Dooley has an excess of it and everywhere he goes, he makes more in the people around him.”

“So then your interest is only in the energy you’re consuming?” Ryan pressed.

West nodded.

“I’m too suppressed to take more than the excess,” he added, “So I can’t actually hurt anyone by doing this.”

He seemed to be telling the truth. Ryan glanced at Gavin who nodded agreement that it was the truth. 

“Very well,” Ryan muttered, “Then we will have no problem.”

He felt a pulse of relief from West.

“However, if you should harm Jeremy Dooley,” Ryan warned coldly, “Then you will be Shepherded right to the slaughter, little sheep.”

“I would never,” West assured him, “Him being happy and healthy benefits me. I can’t feed from him if he isn’t producing the energy.”

_ What an absolute pile of garbage.  _

“I see you judging me for using him, Vagabond,” West snorted, “But can you really say you’re any different?”

Ryan’s mask went on as feelings of self-loathing tried to flood him.

“The difference is, Dooley is fully aware of my intentions,” he countered coolly, “I didn’t have to trick him into being around me.”

West’s eyes flickered and he turned his head away. Ryan didn’t need the empathy link to see he felt guilty. _Good._ Ryan turned and walked away. He rounded a corner into an empty hallway before he let his emotions burst out of him.

_ Whack! Crack! _

A small fissure ran through the brick wall where Ryan’s fist collided with it. He struggled, fighting down the feelings in him. _Have to be in control._ So much for Dooley being a positive influence. 

“I’m going to medical,” he growled at Ray and Gavin.

He stormed off before they could ask any questions or think of following. Jack was eating when he arrived. She raised her eyebrows at him, glancing around him.

“What’re you doin’ here without a victim in tow?” She wondered around the bite of food in her mouth.

“I need to eat,” he grunted as he sat down.

Her eyebrows came together.

“You ate yesterday,” she pointed out.

“I didn’t ask a question,” Ryan sneered.

“Alright, alright, grouchy,” Jack grumbled as she retrieved a bottle and heated it up for him.

He opened it and she stared at him while he sipped it. The warm imitation of life soothed the knot in his chest somewhat and he could finally sift through the major emotions. 

First off was mind-numbing despair brought on by complete self-loathing. _I’m using him just like that parasite._ Second was fiery rage. _I will squash that parasite for thinking he’s allowed to take anything from him._ Third was squeezing anxiety. _If I don’t get myself under control and do better, I’m going to lose him and the whole population will suffer._ He’d depressed the entire cafeteria earlier, he imagined losing Dooley completely would sink everyone into the void. 

“Why are you eating so much, Ry?” Jack asked, “Should I be worried? Because I’m worried.”

Ryan sighed, trying to find a way to dodge the main truth of the problem.

“I haven’t been eating regular food,” he explained, “So the help that was providing is absent.”

Which wasn’t untrue, but it wasn’t the root of the issue, merely a minor contributing factor.

“Okay, you wanna tell me why?” Jack prompted.

“Not really,” he muttered.

“Is this more about your feeling human?” Jack pressed.

Ryan braced his forearms on his knees, head dropping. 

“I don’t know how to control my emotions any more,” he muttered, “It’s getting more difficult with each passing moment. I’m endangering and abandoning everything I’ve built because I’m pursuing a selfish desire.”

“Ry, it’s okay to be selfish after all you’ve been through for this place, all the people you’ve helped,” Jack assured him, “And we’re not gonna completely fall apart without you.”

“A large portion of the population suffered today because of this,” Ryan argued, “I’m effecting them without meaning to because I have no control any more!”

He stood abruptly and hurled the bottle at the wall, suddenly overcome with frustration.

“I want to feel!” He shouted, “I want the bad and the good and everything in between, without feeling guilty every time! I want to-“

He stopped, shoulders slumping. 

“Do you know why we drink blood?” He asked quietly.

“Because you’re dead,” Jack answered, “You crave life.”

“It’s why cold blood does nothing for us,” Ryan muttered, “Because it can’t imitate life. But blood is not the only thing that can imitate life for us. We can still feel warmth. We can still feel alive.”

He pressed his palm to his forehead.

“For nearly 200 years I’ve felt dead,” he murmured, “Now faced with life again, I recall that I am a vampire and I still crave it with every part of me. I want to feel alive, but I can’t do that. I can’t leave, but I can’t just let myself continue to hurt them either.”

He sighed heavily. He felt like the most selfish, whiny bitch on the planet. Everything he had and all he wanted was more.

“Ry...what if we...got you tattooed?” Jack offered carefully.

Ryan looked around at her in surprise. 

“A...a suppression tattoo?” He prompted hesitantly.

“Yeah, we suppress your empathy,” Jack confirmed, “Then you’re still here to help, but free to feel whatever you feel.”

Ryan hesitated. All the supernaturals had one but him. He was the only one in the prison completely unsuppressed. In order to keep the population calm with his empathy, he had to be able to use it, but if his empathy was hurting them instead... Being without it, being without the ability to tap into it if he needed to, was a bit scary. 

But he’d still have his physical powers and Marks, Ray, and Gavin all had some of their powers as well. He wouldn’t be completely defenseless, but he would be free to feel again. And maybe without the rest of them distracting him, he might be able to understand his emotions better. 

It wasn’t like he felt all their emotions constantly, but there was a faint murmur in the back of his mind at all times. Maybe if he quieted it, he could focus better. Maybe he could even be better to Dooley without the distraction. But he could still perform many of his duties. He wouldn’t be abandoning them completely and of course it could be removed if necessary.

“Okay,” he decided, “Let’s do it.”

“Okay, but clean up your fucking mess while I get ready,” Jack grumbled, pointing at the bottle of fake blood spilled over the wall and floor.

“Sorry,” Ryan mumbled sheepishly.

“You’re an ancient pain in my ass, Haywood,” Jack teased.

“Hey, that’s my thing!” Ryan protested.

“And I stole it,” Jack snorted, “Any good witch knows the best magic comes from stealing from supernaturals.”

“All you witches, so rude,” Ryan muttered as he moved to retrieve paper towels.

“Our levels of sass directly correlate with our power,” Jack laughed.

_You must be a god tier then,_ Ryan thought dryly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit’s sad bro.


	19. Chapter 19

Ryan felt...weird. Like a limb had been cut off. The murmur was gone, but in its absence, he felt a sense of clarity he hadn’t in some time. He pulled his shirt off to look at the tattoo on his chest in the mirror. He traced his fingertip over the thin black circle. It was the size of his entire heart, placed directly over it. 

“Yours is the biggest I’ve done so far,” Jack commented over his shoulder, “Bigger the tattoo, bigger the power being suppressed.”

“I am very old,” Ryan answered, “I’ve had a long time to gather power.”

“Really, it’s no wonder you’ve been so effective,” Jack murmured.

Ryan pulled his shirt back on, pulling his braid free of it. He straightened his shirt and his back, standing fully and puffing out a breath. With the murmur gone, his physical abilities were pulled into focus. He’d forgotten how much he could hear and smell when undistracted. Even a couple feet away, he could hear Jack’s heartbeat and smell the components of her perfume. He could hear something else too.

“Congratulations, by the way,” he muttered, “Why didn’t you tell me you’re bearing the sixth generation?”

“I’m sorry?” Jack grunted.

“Pregnant, why didn’t you tell me you’re pregnant?” Ryan clarified.

Jack’s eyes went wide and her jaw dropped open.

“Ah, I...see,” Ryan murmured, shifting a bit.

_Well, this is awkward._

“Are...are you sure?” Jack breathed.

Ryan stepped closer to her and bent to put his ear near her belly. _Badumbadumbadumbadum._ He gently pressed his fingers over the tiny rapid heartbeat.

“Yes, I’m sure,” he confirmed, “You’re with child.”

He stood back up and she just stared at him.

“Isn’t this good news?” He prompted.

“What?” Jack grunted, looking dazed.

“You seem unhappy,” he pointed out, “But I would think it good news.”

“I’m not unhappy, just surprised,” Jack dismissed, “I guess your empathy is definitely suppressed then.”

“Indeed,” he agreed.

“I should call Geoff,” Jack announced, “And it’s almost lights out.”

“Right, well, congratulations,” Ryan repeated, “Good night.”

“Thanks, Ry, good night,” Jack returned.

Ryan left, wondering how long she’d been pregnant without him knowing. Couldn’t be very long if even she hadn’t known. He wondered how much longer it could’ve been if they hadn’t suppressed the empathy. Wondered what else he might discover now that he was so clear-headed.

~

Dooley slumped into his seat beside Ryan. He was looking worse by each passing day. Ryan was starting to suspect he was sick. Whether just from stress or otherwise. Now with no empathy repercussions, he allowed his worry to seize him any moment he wasn’t distracted by something else. _Something, I have to do something._ He turned toward him, touching his lower back.

“Dooley, are you alright?” He questioned.

He was filled with worry. Dooley smiled weakly.

“I’m fine,” he assured him.

He turned to his tray, poking lethargically at his food with his spoon.

“Actually, I think I might go back to bed,” he mumbled, dropping his spoon.

_Not sleeping well._

“You’ve been having nightmares,” Ryan guessed with a twinge of empathy.

Dooley nodded. _I can help. Let me help._

“Why don’t you come with me to my cell?” Ryan offered, “Getting a nap with someone may be helpful.”

_Please let me hold you. Let me chase the bad away._

“Okay,” Jeremy agreed.

Ryan took him to his cell and they crowded together on his small bunk. He pulled Dooley close, wrapping his arms around him and pressing his face in his hair. He smelled like soap and faintly of sweat. His body in Ryan’s arms was warm and comforting. 

“Sleep well, dulce meum,” Ryan murmured.

Dooley hummed and his breathing evened quickly. He fell asleep easily. Ryan unexpectedly found himself lulled into sleep easily as well. 

He woke some time later on his back with Dooley tucked into his side. He felt so warm, filled with contentment. When was the last time he’d woken up beside someone? He smiled down at Dooley, brushing a hand through his hair. He was cute in his sleep. _How on earth did I get so lucky?_

Dooley stirred, rubbing his cheek against Ryan’s chest adorably and humming contentedly.

“Are you awake?” Ryan asked, brushing a hand through his hair again.

“Yeah, guess so,” Dooley mumbled.

“Feel any better?” Ryan prompted.

“Much better,” Dooley answered.

_Thank goodness._ Dooley sat up and swung a leg over Ryan to straddle his waist. Ryan was ready before his warmth even settled on him. It had been a little while. But Dooley had been unwell. Ryan cleared his throat, starting to sit up, but Dooley put his hand on his chest to press him back down. Of course he didn’t have the strength to hold Ryan there, but Ryan was a very easily convinced man.

He swallowed thickly as he let himself be pushed back into the mattress. Dooley leaned forward over him, rubbing his ass against his hard cock. Ryan’s eyelids drooped and his lips parted as his hands laid over Dooley’s thighs. 

“You still have the lube I gave you?” Dooley prompted.

_Yes!_ Ryan nodded eagerly, gesturing at the secret stash. Dooley leaned over to retrieve the bottle and Ryan moved to take it from him. 

“Ah, ah,” Dooley warned, pulling it out of range, “You just stay still.”

Ryan frowned as he settled back down. _I should take care of this. Besides, I want to watch you squirm on my fingers._ Dooley carefully maneuvered to pull his shirt over his head and get his pants and underwear off. It was a bit of an awkward shuffle, but Ryan watched him carefully, admiring the art and the muscles normally hidden by his clothing. Then Dooley leaned over him, bracing one hand by his head as the other went behind him.

“Dooley,” Ryan grunted, jaw clenching and eyes roaming over the other man.

“Yes, Vagabond?” Dooley asked innocently as he pressed two lubed fingers inside himself.

Ryan watched between his legs, just barely seeing Dooley’s fingers moving. His blood was boiling as he tried to hold still as ordered, watching Dooley finger himself so close to him. Then Dooley flushed and he started moving quicker, apparently eager to get started t. He moaned softly, eyes closing as he added a third finger. Ryan thought he could finally die just from being overheated.

_ “Dooley,” _ he repeated, gritting it out through his teeth.

Dooley’s eyes slowly reopened.

“What is it, Vagabond?” He breathed.

Ryan shuddered below him. He let out a pathetic, strangled off moan.

“D-Dooley,” he whispered brokenly, “I...p-please.”

_I need you. I need you so bad._ Dooley pressed his lips to Ryan’s, shifting to grab the lube bottle again. Ryan gripped desperately at Dooley’s hip with one hand while the other fumbled to shove his clothes out of the way. He pulled his hand up and Dooley poured lube on it without Ryan having to say so. He rubbed the lube over his cock and paused. _Oh fuck._ When had he last had lube on his cock? He made another strangled noise and Dooley chuckled breathlessly. Then they were shuffling, getting into place and Dooley groaned as he slid down on Ryan’s cock.

“Ohh, fuck,” Ryan breathed, shuddering again.

He reached up above his head to grab the frame of the bed to ground himself as the feeling of Dooley’s hot wet hole around him overtook him.

“Nnh, s-so wet,” he moaned.

The bed frame creaked where he was gripping it, bending in his hands and his head pressed back as red crept into his vision. _Fuck, breed, fill._ He struggled against the overwhelming instinctual desire to breed Dooley like they were animals. _Don’t. Hurt. Him._

“Fuck!” He growled, “Move,  _ now!” _

_Before I break you accidentally._ Dooley shuddered and he started moving, groaning as he bounced on Ryan’s cock. Ryan moaned, body and face drawing up and his teeth baring in a snarl. He was struggling to keep himself still and in control. _My mate. Mine mine mine._

Dooley came first, faltering in his movements as he came over Ryan’s shirt. He tightened on Ryan’s cock and Ryan snapped. He twisted them, pressing his lips to Dooley’s neck as he quickly and harshly fucked him into the mattress. _Take what’s yours._ Dooley groaned, body twisting under Ryan. _Bite. Claim. Drink._ Ryan could practically smell his honeyed blood as his teeth pressed over Dooley’s pulse. _Mine._ He slammed hard into him, coming deep inside him. He thrust a few more times, slow and deep before he halted completely, panting against Dooley’s skin. 

As soon as he had enough air to clear his head slightly, he pulled back sharply. _Fuck! I bit him!_ He gripped Dooley’s chin to turn his head aside. He touched over his pulse point lightly and puffed out a relieved sigh. _Didn’t break skin. But I still hurt him._

“Are you alright?” He asked, filled with anxiety.

“I’m fucking amazing,” Dooley whispered.

_That’s good, right?_ Ryan moved away to grab toilet paper and was back quickly, cleaning Dooley up and helping him back onto his clothes. _I hurt him. I hurt him._

“Are you alright?” He repeated, “You were unwell. We- _ I _ shouldn’t have done that.”

“I’m fine,” Dooley dismissed, though he sounded tired again, “I’m not sick, dude. Just sleeping poorly. But I do want another nap.”

_More cuddle time?_ Ryan thought hopefully.

“That’s alright,” he assured him, pulling him close, “You can have as many naps as you want.”

“You just like holding me,” Dooley teased tiredly.

Ryan was quiet a moment as he brushed his hand through Dooley’s hair, considering whether he could admit this safely. _I’m letting myself feel, I can...I can share too. I can share this with him._

“Yes, I do,” he admitted softly, “I like taking care of you.”

He kissed Dooley’s temple. Dooley snuggled closer and Ryan smiled to himself as Dooley fell asleep. _I’m so...alive._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so tired


	20. Chapter 20

Ryan paced around outside medical, waiting for Jack to arrive. He couldn’t take any more risks with hazing. He needed to eat first thing every morning at least. Perhaps he should eat multiple times a day as well. He’d almost bitten Dooley. Without the empathy link occupying his mind, every part of his physical body was heightened. His senses, his hunger, his _lust._

He was embarrassed and ashamed that he’d nearly lost control. He’d bent the bed frame in an effort not to fuck a new hole into Dooley. It was lucky he’d been so close when he flipped him over or he may have really hurt him. All because they used lube. 

How utterly mortifying to be brought so low by fucking lubricant of all things. Lubricant he’d clearly gotten from Jones. Ryan had nearly crushed the bottle in his hand when Dooley gave it to him for safekeeping. It always came back to Jones. Ryan felt a sear of anger in his chest. _Such an infuriating little brat._ He really needed to be taught manners. 

“Ry?” Jack greeted as she arrived, “What’s up?”

“Twins,” Ryan announced, surprising both of them, “There’s a second heartbeat.”

“What?!” Jack demanded, fumbling her keys.

“Let me,” Ryan offered as she started to bend to get them, “I am surprised, I suppose I thought they would develop at the same pace.”

He handed her her keys and she just stood there a moment.

“Jack?” He prompted.

She shook herself, quickly unlocking the door and going inside. Ryan followed a bit hesitantly. _She seems upset. I don’t know if I should be here. I could come back later._ Jack dropped her bag on her desk and stood there a moment.

“Er, Jack?” Ryan muttered, “Are you alright?”

She turned to face him and quite suddenly threw herself at him. She was lucky he didn’t instinctively deck her. She buried her face in his chest, clutching his shirt and crying out, the sound of distress slicing through Ryan like a blade. He put his arms around her without even thinking, holding her closely. _She’s... unhappy with the pregnancy. Oh dear. What...what do I do?? I don’t have my powers. How do I calm her down??_

“What am I going-I-I can’t do this!” She cried, “I-I’m going to be a terrible mom!”

“I highly doubt that,” Ryan scoffed, “I think you are very nurturing and you certainly know how to care for others. You’ll be a great mother.”

“You don’t know that!” Jack sobbed, “I’m so impatient an-and I get so overwhelmed so easily!”

_ Yes, I can see that. _

“I have seen many parents, Jack,” Ryan muttered, “I’ve seen who will have what it takes and who will fall flat. You and Geoff are going to be excellent parents.”

“I-I’m not ready!” Jack protested.

“Of course you’re not ready,” Ryan agreed, “None of us ever are. You can live thousands of years and still not be ready for life, death, love, heartbreak, or any other change. But not being ready has never stopped you before and it won’t stop you now. You’re going to be just fine and you’re going to raise the sixth generation to be just as much of a pain in my ass as the fifth is.”

Jack chuckled around her sniffling and Ryan felt a wave of surprised relief flow over him. _She’s calming down. I did it...without my powers._ The feeling of anxiety over not having his empathy powers cooled somewhat. _I really don’t need them._ Jack got a hold of herself and retrieved and heated a bottle of artificial blood for him. 

“I’m a fucking mess,” Jack sniffled, before blowing her nose.

“I believe it’s...normal for you to be emotional,” Ryan assured her.

He frowned.

“I don’t know that for sure though,” he admitted, “I wasn’t...close for any of the other Ramsey’s. Some of them were particularly keen on keeping away from me when they were with child.”

“Will you stop saying it like that?” Jack huffed, “Sounds creepy.”

“My apologies,” Ryan muttered, “No one wants me around their partner when the rabbit died.”

“I’m sorry, the _what??”_ Jack demanded.

“There used to be this test-you know, I don’t think you actually want to know,” Ryan grunted, “The point is no one wants me around their knocked up partner.”

“Well, congrats, I don’t think you could get much closer than being a walking ultrasound for me,” Jack snorted. 

“Will you...quit?” Ryan wondered.

“Fuck no,” Jack dismissed.

“Not even after the birth?” Ryan pressed.

“Are you trying to get rid of me, Haywood?” Jack grumbled.

“No, of course not,” Ryan assured her, “I’m actually very glad to hear you’re staying. You’re the best doctor we’ve ever had.”

Jack’s eyebrows went up.

“Uh, thank you,” she murmured, “That’s very nice to hear. Anyway, how are you feeling?”

“I feel okay,” Ryan answered, “Still getting used to being suppressed.”

Jack hummed, raising an eyebrow at him. She knew there was more going on, but she was still leaving it up to him to decide if he wanted to tell her. He didn’t.

“Congratulations again,” he mumbled, looking away.

“Yeah, yay me,” she snorted, “I’m going to get so fat.”

“I don’t think they usually call it fat when there are offspring involved,” Ryan snorted.

“Don’t call them offspring,” Jack muttered, nose wrinkling.

“Alright,” he agreed, “Spawn?”

“God, you’re the worst,” Jack grumbled, “Get out of here.”

“Fetuses?”

_ “Out!” _

~

“Haywood.”

Ryan sighed. Every time Jones wanted to accost him now, he cornered him in the library. 

“Jones,” he returned, slipping the book on the shelf, “What can I do for you?”

“Something’s wrong,” Jones muttered.

“Yes, it is,” Ryan agreed, “He’s having nightmares.”

“Is that...normal?” Jones wondered, “How worried should I be?”

“This appears to be something he is used to, on a smaller scale,” Ryan answered, slipping another book on the shelf, “But something is different this time. They’re more frequent and intense which is usually a sign of stress.”

_Which could be my fault entirely,_ he didn’t add. 

“I don’t suppose you could say it’s blondie stressing him out so we have an excuse to get rid of him?” Jones grumbled.

“I could,” Ryan snorted, “But we both know it’s a lie. West appears to be helpful, so we really should stop distracting him from spending time with him.”

They’d somewhat successfully worked together to take up as much of Dooley’s free time as possible. Thus the only time Dooley really spent with West was his after dinner game. Ryan was feeling more guilt about it the more Dooley seemed to wear down. 

“What else can we do?” Jones pressed.

“In my experience, all we can do is provide support and wait for it to pass,” Ryan murmured, “There’s little else to be done.”

Dooley was about as closed off as Ryan. Though he was sneakier about it, he found ways to make you think you had gotten an actual answer or distract you outright. Trying to get a meaningful conversation with him was impossible. At least the naps appeared to be helpful though they weren’t enough. Ryan knew he needed more.

“Are you sure it’s just stress?” Jones muttered, “Maybe he’s sick.”

“No, it is not _just_ stress,” Ryan scoffed, putting another book away, “Stress is never _just_ stress. It affects the entirety of your body and mind. Stress can give you a whole host of psychological issues and physical ailments. I believe Dooley is unwell because he is stressed.”

_ Probably because of me somehow. I’m pushing him too much or I’m not being good enough. _

“Do you...know exactly what’s bothering him?” Jones asked quietly.

Ryan looked over at him at the tone of despair in his voice. His face was twisted up and he was looking down at his twisting hands. He clearly also thought he could be a source of that stress. Ryan’s chest squeezed with empathy and he felt the strong urge to comfort the man.

“I don’t know for sure,” he answered him carefully, “But many inmates experience a period of heightened stress after transferring to a new location. I believe that’s the only situation that is new to him. Everything else I think he has experience with.”

Jones looked at him and his nose wrinkled.

“Are you trying to fucking comfort me?” He sneered.

“I was stating a fact,” Ryan muttered, moving down the shelf, “How you interpret my words is entirely on you.”

“I can’t figure you out, man,” Jones grumbled.

He sighed.

“And I don’t fucking trust you,” he added.

“Your kind rarely trusts mine,” Ryan snorted.

The original Warden Ramsey and his offspring-descendants rather, were notable exceptions to the rule of heroes killing supernaturals on sight. Though technically heroes were sort of supernatural in their own way.

“My kind?” Jones grunted, confused.

“Heroes,” Ryan clarified, rolling his eyes.

“I never claimed to be a hero!” Jones protested, “I’m just a fucking CO, man.” 

Ryan looked over at him, frowning. That response sounded like he hadn’t known what Ryan meant by “hero”. 

“This isn’t fucking cops and robbers,” Jones went on, “I never said I was good, just better than you. I’m still fucking garbage.”

“Do you know what I am?” Ryan prompted.

“An asshole?” Jones offered dryly.

_If he’s not a hero after all, then Dooley’s allure must be working on him._ Which would make sense, it would explain why Dooley was attracted to him. Regular mortal humans were much easier to manipulate. Heroes couldn’t be influenced nearly as easily and some couldn’t be influenced at all. Ryan shook his head, putting another book away. _Well, good, he’s just useless as I originally thought and Ramsey didn’t keep this from me after all._

“Was there anything else?” He muttered.

“Why are you doing this?” Jones wondered.

“Doing what?” Ryan grunted.

“Work detail,” Jones clarified, “You could make someone else do it.”

“Lead by example,” Ryan murmured, “If I wish to help rehabilitate the other inmates, I should show them that I practice what I preach.”

“Why would you help them?” Jones pressed.

Ryan felt his defenses go up at the question.

“It’s the right thing to do,” he answered.

“You’re lying,” Jones accused.

“I don’t lie, Mr. Jones,” Ryan dismissed icily.

“Being vague and dancing around with your words is the same fucking thing,” Jones insisted.

“Then allow me to be perfectly clear,” Ryan spoke coolly as he placed the last book and turned fully to Jones, “It isn’t your business what I do or why unless someone is being hurt. No one is being hurt, so your prying is unnecessary and unappreciated.”

Jones looked away and Ryan felt pleased with him backing down, submitting.

“Yeah, I don’t give a fuck actually,” Jones muttered, “Don’t know why I fucking asked. Anyway, I’m leaving, I have actual work to do that isn’t listening to your bullshit.”

He turned to stomp off dismissively and Ryan aborted a move to grab his wrist to make him stay. _I’m not finished with you, brat._ A lukewarm feeling buzzed low in his gut. _I should punish you for your attitude._ He shook his head, moving to pick up more books. He was getting déjà vu. He wasn’t sure he liked the idea of becoming familiar with Jones. 

~

Dooley slumped in his seat, not even glancing at his tray. Ryan was overcome with worry. He’d only gotten worse as the days went on. He was barely eating. Every time Ryan asked if he was okay, he would say he was and shrug it off. Dooley was defensive and Ryan was trying to be respectful, but now Dooley was swaying in his seat, looking like he didn’t even realize he was doing it. _Okay, it’s time to step in._ Ryan touched his back gently. _Please don’t get mad._

“Dooley, you are not well,” he murmured.

“Just bad sleep,” Dooley insisted.

“Bad sleep,” Ryan repeated.

He kept saying that over and over again, insisting it was only the sleep that was the problem. He always looked ten times better after sleeping in the day time, even the time Ryan was too busy to lay with him. _Day time..._

“Dooley...your nightmares, what happen in them?” Ryan asked carefully.

“Um, running,” Dooley offered, “It chases me.”

“It?” Ryan prompted.

“Shadow man,” Dooley answered, “Chases me until I can’t run any more. Then he sits on my chest and claws my face.”

Ryan’s chest seized with panic as Dooley confirmed what he’d started to suspect.

“Dooley!” He exclaimed, “That’s a nightmare!”

“That’s what I said, bad sleep,” Dooley mumbled.

“No not a nightmare, a night- _mare,”_ Ryan grumbled, “A mare of the night.”

_How did he not notice??_ He put his hand to Dooley’s forehead and Dooley leaned into his touch.  _He’s freezing!_

“How many days have you been dealing with this??” Ryan demanded.

“Ten?” Dooley offered.

“Ten?!” Ryan choked, his panic soaring higher, “We need to get you to medical immediately!”

“‘M fine,” Dooley repeated.

_Fine?! You’re fine?!_ Ryan felt like shaking him violently.

“How the hell is a mare targeting him??” Gavin spoke up.

“That is what I’d like to know,” Ryan growled as he hooked his arms under Dooley’s knees and shoulders, “Ray, look into the most likely candidates. Gavin, track down Jones. Marks, check in on Axial, make sure he’s not afflicted as well.”

He lifted Dooley who put his arms around him, burying his cool face in Ryan’s neck as he stood.

“Misconduct,” Dooley warned weakly.

Ryan’s heart broke in half. He was that sick and still worried about getting in trouble. _Oh, dulce meum. Life has not been kind to you, has it?_

“Shh, you’re not going to get in trouble,” Ryan soothed as he carried Dooley toward medical, “The guards are conveniently not noticing us.”

“‘M fine though,” Dooley assured him.

_ Fine fine fine! I hate this word! _

“You’re not,” Ryan muttered.

He hurried to medical as quick as he could without jarring Dooley too much. Jack looked around as they entered, frowning at the sight of Dooley in Ryan’s arms.

“Ry?” She grunted, “Who’d you fuck up this time?”

_ Damnit, why do you assume I’ve done something?! _

“I didn’t do anything,” Ryan grumbled, “This is Dooley. He’s been targeted by a mare.”

“He’s been _what?!”_ Jack demanded, rushing over as Ryan put Dooley on a bed.

She touched Dooley’s wrist.

“‘M fine,” he mumbled weakly.

“Stop saying that!” Ryan hissed, “You’re not fine! He’s been ridden ten nights!”

“Ten?!” Jack choked, eyes wide, “Jesus, okay, keep him awake while I get him what he needs.”

Ryan sat next to Dooley as Jack hurried off. He hesitantly put his hand in Dooley’s and put the other to his forehead. His heart was filled with panic and guilt. _How did I not notice??_

“You have to stay awake, dulce meum,” he murmured, “Stay with me, okay?”

“Where else would I go?” Dooley grunted, somehow still sassy even as ill as he was, “What’s going on?”

“A mare has been targeting you,” Ryan explained, brushing his hand through Dooley’s hair, “I’m shocked you can’t identify one. I thought your kind all naturally had a sense for the rest of us.”

“A...what?” Dooley muttered tiredly.

He obviously sounded utterly exhausted. Ryan’s heart was squeezing tighter and tighter. 

“I think you’re too out of it to really discuss this,” he dismissed, “We can talk more after you’ve recovered. For now-“

“Dooley!” Jones’ voice suddenly interrupted, “What the fuck?!”

He was by Dooley’s other side in an instant.

“What happened?!” He demanded, “What did he-What the fuck did you do?!”

He directed the last at Ryan who scowled at him, guilt and anger burning through him.

“I didn’t do anything!” He snapped, “You should watch your mouth before it runs where you can’t follow, boy.”

“I will fucking mace you, old man,” Jones growled.

“You could never be quick enough to hurt me before I destroy you,” Ryan countered coldly.

“You can eat my fucking ass, you arrogant fuckhead!” Jones snapped back.

“Shut...up,” Dooley croaked, “You both...suck.”

“I agree,” Jack grumbled as she reappeared, “Get the hell out of my workspace, you’re disturbing the patient!”

“But he-“ Jones and Ryan started together.

“Out!”

The two left the room, muttering under their breath. Ryan took up position beside the door while Jones began pacing.

Ryan watched him pacing back and forth.  _ I should’ve noticed sooner. _ Poor Dooley must not have experience with mares and Ryan had been too distracted to notice he’d been targeted. Jones, on the other hand, was like all regular humans: useless.

“Don’t you have work?” Ryan sneered.

“My job is to fucking protect him,” Jones fired back, not faltering in his pacing.

“Protect  _ him?” _ Ryan snorted, raising an eyebrow.

“Er, _them,_ I meant,” Jones corrected, “The inmates. I protect  _ them.” _

“Right,” Ryan muttered, rolling his eyes, “Nothing will happen to Dooley while I’m here, so you can return to your duties.”

“You’re not my fucking boss, Haywood,” Jones growled, “Push around whoever the fuck else you want to, but you’re not fucking pushing me around. Or Dooley.”

“How quick you change your tune,” Ryan commented, “Weren’t we just allies?”

“Barely,” Jones scoffed, “Working together to distract him from that blondie sunshine fucker barely counts as allies.”

“And here I was about to make friendship bracelets,” Ryan deadpanned.

Jones stopped pacing and his laughter burst out of him like it took him by surprise.

“Shut the fuck up, asshole,” he snorted, but there was no malice in his voice.

Ryan nearly flinched in surprise.  _I made him laugh._ His lips twitched.  _How the hell did I even end up here laughing with Jones of all dumbasses?_ _Some good, some poor decisions,_ he mused. Before he could really explore why he felt so okay with that situation, Jack exited medical. They both turned to her.

“Is Dooley okay?” They asked together.

“Jesus, yes, he’s fine,” Jack grumbled, “He’s a bit malnourished and dehydrated and seriously needs sleep, but he’s going to be fine. It’s probably stress.”

It wasn’t actually, but this confirmed that Jones was out of the loop on the true nature of the prison. _Definitely not a hero then or Jack would’ve just told him about the mare._ Jones’ face was twisted up and Ryan’s heart squeezed again. He felt extra guilty that Jones couldn’t know that it wasn’t him causing this issue.

“As I said, transfers are quite stressful,” Ryan assured him.

Jones glared at him, his nose wrinkling up.

“I don’t need your fucking reassurances,” he sneered.

“I think you’re meant to thank someone when they’re being nice,” Ryan muttered, rolling his eyes.

“You can fucking eat me, old man,” Jones grumbled.

Ryan was temporarily distracted by the phrase, eyes trailing to Jones’ pale neck. It would be a very pretty neck to bite into. He shook himself mentally and looked to Jack.

“Is he going to be alright?” He asked.

“He’ll be fine,” Jack answered, “Once we eliminate the root of the problem.”

_Once we find the mare and destroy it._ Ryan felt burning in his chest. _I’m going to tear its throat out._

“What the fuck is going on?” Ramsey’s voice suddenly asked.

Ryan looked around at him where he’d appeared seemingly from nowhere.

“I’m so glad to see you,” he admitted, sighing.

Ramsey’s eyebrows went up. 

“Uh, you too, buddy,” he muttered, “So what’s going on?”

“Well...” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I skipped yesterday. Whoops. Tomorrow will begin from Michael’s perspective in the present. 👌


	21. Chapter 21

Haywood hesitated, glancing at Michael whose eyes narrowed. 

“Perhaps I can explain the full situation privately?” He suggested.

Ramsey frowned at him then also glanced at Michael who was confused and suspicious. _What the fuck is going on??_

“Yes, I think that would be for the best,” Ramsey agreed, “Just one moment though.”

He pushed between them and seized Dr. Pattillo, hoisting her into the air. 

“Oh, my baby’s having babies!” He exclaimed, spinning her around.

“Geoff!” Pattillo cried.

He literally tossed her in the air and caught her in a hug.

“I’m so excited!” He shouted unnecessarily.

“Yes, we can see that,” Haywood muttered tightly, “Congratulations on your off-on your...children. We have a situation, Ramsey.”

“Oh, congrats,” Michael spoke up, reminding the three he was there.

“Ramsey, we need to talk,” Haywood grumbled, “Away from the puer.”

“Will you stop fucking calling me that?!” Michael snapped, “I’m a man!”

_Of legal consenting age, asshole._ Haywood’s tiny frown made an appearance. 

“Stultus es,” he muttered.

“Fuck you!” Michael snapped, “I am not! J-Just because I’m-“

“Pulchra es quoque,” Haywood interrupted.

Michael’s mouth stayed open, but his angry responses died on his tongue and his eyes widened as he blushed brilliantly. _Beautiful? Me??_

“Intellegis,” Haywood murmured, “Quam?”

“Wh-What?” Michael stammered, breathless.

Haywood’s frown deepened and his eyes went icy as he looked at Ramsey.

“Explain yourself,” he ordered lowly.

“He doesn’t know,” Ramsey answered.

Michael’s brain caught up enough to get confused. _Explain what? I don’t know what?_

“He doesn’t know, what does that mean?” Haywood muttered.

“It means he doesn’t fucking know,” Ramsey repeated, “Ask him what you are.”

“I already did,” Haywood answered, “He called me an asshole.”

“Ah, I knew I liked you, kid,” Ramsey laughed, flashing a crooked grin at Michael.

“What the fuck is going on??” Michael wondered wildly.

“How can he not know??” Haywood cut in over him.

“Kid’s vision is shit,” Ramsey explained.

“What??” Michael tried again.

“Yes, he must be untrained,” Haywood agreed, crossing his arms.

Michael threw up his hands, resolving to just wait until this conversation was over.

“No, no, I mean his actual vision,” Ramsey dismissed, “As far as I can tell, he literally can’t see the tells properly.”

“But he can still-“ Haywood started.

“Ryebread!” Free’s voice suddenly shrieked.

A blur shot past Michael and attached itself to Haywood who, for once, obligingly caught the British squawker by his thighs.

“What did he find?” He asked immediately, urgently.

Michael perked up. Haywood only got frantic about Dooley. There was some development. _Some way I can help maybe?_

“It’s unregistered!” Free exclaimed, bouncing in Haywood’s arms, “Must be disguised some how!”

_Unregistered? Disguised? Also put him down! Don’t fucking **hold** him!_

“Disguised?” Haywood repeated, “How?”

“Dunno!” Free admitted, shrugging, “But X-Ray’s looking through humans to see if anyone stands out.”

_Humans._ Michael frowned. _What in the fuck is going on??_

“Ramsey, we need to-“ Haywood started.

He halted, glancing at Michael again.

“We need to speak in private,” he muttered.

Pattillo leaned over to Ramsey and whispered in his ear. Ramsey’s eyebrows went up.

“How in the world did that happen?” He wondered.

“Could someone please clue me the fuck in??” Michael huffed.

“Why the hell would you hire him?” Haywood asked Ramsey, frowning at Michael, “He might as well be regular.”

Michael was offended, but he didn’t know why.

“I assure you that is definitely not the case,” Ramsey snorted, “Put Free down.”

Haywood set Free on his feet.

“Jones, tell Free here two truths and a lie, in a random order,” Ramsey ordered, “You don’t want him to guess the lie, okay?”

_Why??_ Michael sighed, turning to Free. _Just fucking roll with it._

“I’m from Liberty,” he offered, “I want to be a pilot and I want Haywood to bend me over the nearest flat surface.”

“That’s the lie,” Haywood snorted.

“Shut up, shut up!” Free hissed, flapping his hand, “Don’t help me!”

He stared into Michael’s eyes, frowning to himself.

“Er, say them again?” He requested.

Michael repeated himself. Free continued frowning at him for a moment.

“Um...the pilot one?” He guessed uncertainly.

“I take flight lessons on my days off,” Michael answered.

Free scowled.

“He _is_ a bloody hero!” He huffed, turning to Ramsey, “You set me up!”

Haywood was staring at Michael in disbelief.

“He just successfully lied to Gavin,” he stated dumbly, “How... _you_ can barely do that.”

He looked at Ramsey. Michael was so damn confused he felt like he’d looped around and this was all normal now.

“Untrained, doesn’t know what he is, can’t even properly see,” Haywood muttered, “And he can lie to Gavin.”

“I was trying to find the right time to tell him,” Ramsey answered sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, “I thought maybe I’d miraculously come up with something on vacation.”

Haywood’s eyes flicked back to Michael who felt his heart rate quicken. _Come on, you big dumb idiot, realize the truth! God, I need you so bad. Now, do it now! I know you want it, you fucking dickbag! Fuck me!_ Haywood’s eyes swept down to to Michael’s throat. He stared at Michael’s throat and neck a lot, some weird fetish, Michael thought. He’d started unbuttoning his buttons further to try to entice him more, but Haywood still wasn’t biting.

“Full immunity,” Haywood spoke quietly, “How... _useful.”_

_God, I don’t even care what that means. Just fuck me already! You wanna punish me, you want to fuck me, just do it!_ Haywood regained his concentration as quickly as always. _Asshole._

“We need him,” he announced, looking back to Ramsey, “He’s the perfect ally to find the mare.”

_The what?_ Michael couldn’t help the swell of smugness at hearing Haywood admit they needed him. He didn’t even give a fuck what it was for, hearing that filled him with pride. _Ha!_ Despite how damn hot he was for the guy, he still hated that smug, uptight attitude of his. He also didn’t trust him and thought Dooley should pick him instead. But goddamnit, the infuriating asshole was hot and scary, which apparently Michael liked.

“Well, I guess now is a good a time as any,” Ramsey grunted, “Let’s go to my office.”

“No, I can’t leave,” Haywood dismissed.

Ramsey frowned at him. 

“Uh, why?” He wondered.

“I...” Haywood started then stopped.

He glanced at the door to medical. Michael’s eyebrows went up. He’d been under the impression Ramsey and Haywood were close which was weird, but well, the whole place was fucking weird. Anyway, according to the other CO’s, Haywood had been there so long he’d become pretty good friends with the warden. But he hadn’t told him he was fucking Dooley. Seemed like he really didn’t want to tell him either. A flare of protectiveness burned in Michael’s chest.

“It obviously wouldn’t be very safe to leave Dooley without the doctor,” he pointed out.

Haywood shot him a look he couldn’t decipher. Not that Michael could ever decipher more than angry and turned on. 

“Fine, let’s go in,” Ramsey suggested.

All five of them filed in and then into Pattillo’s office. Michael wasn’t sure why they needed the fucking pest. Free was always hanging around, touching Haywood way more than necessary. He was a very physical person and Haywood tolerated his presence which was much more than Michael could say about his own presence. Not that he was jealous or anything. That would be stupid and ridiculous.

“Hey, which was the lie?” Free asked him suddenly, tugging on his sleeve.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Michael sneered.

“Obviously, that’s why I asked!” Free huffed.

Michael snorted, rolling his eyes. He glanced at Dooley with a squeeze of worry in his heart. He looked so small in the hospital bed, so pale. Almost like a corpse, if not for the slow rising and falling of his chest. _He’s going to be okay, right?_ Michael caught Haywood also glancing over with worry on his usually expressionless face. He _did_ seem to give a shit about Dooley. Michael supposed he could give him credit for that at least. 

The five crowded into the office, shuffling around to get into the not enough chairs. Michael was sat in the chair next to Pattillo’s desk, guided there by Ramsey’s hand on his shoulder. Ramsey sat in the chair at the desk. Then Haywood insisted on Pattillo sitting in the final chair which was against the wall beside a filing cabinet. He took up position on the far wall, leaning against it directly across from Michael. Free flopped down on the floor beside Haywood, closer than strictly necessary.

Michael felt surrounded despite being the closest to the door. 

“Jones,” Ramsey began, “We need to tell you the true nature of this facility.”

“Summarize,” Haywood suggested, “We don’t have time.”

“Relax, Ry, Jesus,” Ramsey grumbled before refocusing, “Jones, a large part of the inmates are supernatural beings. This prison was created in an effort to help supernaturals learn how to live alongside regular humans peacefully, how to use their powers for good, and help them see they have a choice in what they decide to do with their lives.”

Michael blinked at him in baffled silence. He sounded so damn sincere. He wasn’t lying despite the fact that was most batshit insane shit Michael had ever heard. 

“What the fuck?” He grunted, unsure what else to say.

“Free, show him,” Ramsey ordered.

Free turned slightly and suddenly there were two fluffy tails waving behind him and a matching pair of ears on his head. Fox tails, fox ears. He was a fucking furry. But they were real. 

“I’m a kitsune,” Free explained, “A fox spirit.”

The furry parts disappeared and Michael’s eyes found Haywood’s. Clues buzzed in his head as Haywood lifted an eyebrow at him. _Never goes outside. Doesn’t eat. Aversion to the cross-free chapel. Stares at my neck all the time._ Michael felt a squeeze of anxiety in his guts. _He’s a fucking vampire._

_Good. Great. Awesome. That’s just what I wanted. He’s going to fucking eat me._ He wanted to tell the degenerate in his pants that that was not a good thing because it seemed to think it was. Michael looked at Ramsey, struggling to get his head around everything. 

“So...what the fuck does that have to do with me?” He wondered.

“There’s regular humans with special powers called heroes,” Ramsey explained, “They’re naturally resistant to supernaturals to varying degrees and have something called Hero Sight which allows them to see what a supernatural is just by looking at them. I am a hero and _you_ are a hero.”

“No, I’m not,” Michael reacted instantly, “I’d have to fucking know that, wouldn’t I? I would’ve noticed if I could see what they were.”

“About that,” Ramsey muttered, “I believe you can’t see properly normally and it effects your Sight. Instead, you get the feeling that something is off about someone, right? You call it intuition.”

Michael frowned to himself.

“What’s blondie then?” He asked Haywood.

“He’s an incubus,” Haywood answered, “A demon that feeds off sexual energy.”

_Ah, that’s why he’s after Dooley._ The man oozed sexual energy.

“And your other minion, Narvaez?” Michael prompted.

“A fairy,” Haywood replied.

“And the one that follows Dooley around like a lost puppy?” Michael grumbled.

Haywood laughed. Well, _chuckled._ Michael flinched in surprise. Haywood’s pretty blue eyes sparkled like the ocean and his lips pulled higher on one side as he smiled.

“He’s a werewolf,” he mused.

Michael was struggling more with Haywood’s amusement than the fact he was apparently surrounded by supernatural creatures and had superpowers. _I made him laugh. Holy shit._ He pried his eyes away from the pretty amused look and stared at the floor. _Okay. Supernatural beings. Superpowers._ He pressed his hand to his forehead, feeling a bit dizzy. _This is insane._

“I know this is a lot to take in,” Ramsey murmured, “But we kinda have to speed through your disbelief here. We need to find the person who’s targeting Dooley.”

Michael’s head jerked up and he sat forward.

“Someone’s targeting him??” He demanded, “Who? _What??_ How the fuck do we find them?”

Ramsey’s eyebrows went up.

“What the hell did I miss while I was gone?” He wondered, “Why do you care about the new transfer?”

Michael blushed, eyes darting away. He forgot he was supposed to be keeping that a secret.

“Are you fucking an inmate?!” Ramsey demanded, sitting forward himself.

Michael cleared his throat.

“I, uh...it’s not what you think,” he mumbled, “I’m not like abusing my power or anything.”

Guilt turned his heart to ice. He wasn’t doing so on purpose anyway. He still worried he was on accident. Worried that Dooley didn’t actually want to be with him. 

“He really isn’t,” Haywood spoke up, surprising the whole room, “Dooley sees him without feeling any pressure to do so. It is completely consensual.”

_He’s fucking defending me._ Michael’s nose wrinkled up and fire burned inside him.

“I don’t need you to speak for me,” he growled, “I’m not a fucking child.”

“Well, you certainly know how to act like one,” Haywood fired back.

“Fuck you, I do not!” Michael snapped, “You’re the one who keeps starting fights!”

“No, that would be your pride starting fights,” Haywood argued, “You can’t simply be grateful to have an ally?”

“You are not my ally!” Michael protested, “I still don’t fucking trust you!”

“Typical hero can’t look past his own prejudices,” Haywood sneered, “You’re all the same.”

“This has nothing to do with that!” Michael insisted, “I don’t give a fuck what you are, I just care if you’re hurting him!”

Haywood’s jaw tightened.

“I would never intentionally hurt him,” he spoke coldly.

“And unintentionally?” Michael countered viciously.

It felt better than it should to see Haywood hesitate to answer. 

“What’s wrong?” He taunted, smirking smugly, “Can’t find a way to defend yourself now, Haywood?”

Haywood’s frigid eyes were so cold they burned Michael as he pushed off the wall.

“You arrogant little puer,” he growled, “Ego ostendimus vobis rem.”

Michael almost visibly shuddered at the threat. _Yes, teach me a lesson, punish me for being so mouthy. Teach me how to behave! Do it now! I’m so fucking sick of waiting!_

“Wait, you’re fucking him too?!” Ramsey shrieked, voice cracking.

Haywood’s face froze in its emotional blank state.

“I never said that,” he muttered.

“You basically just did!” Ramsey snapped, “This is so-!”

He stopped, sighing and covering his eyes with one hand.

“This is extremely inappropriate,” he murmured, “Neither of you should be fucking him.”

Michael ducked his head sheepishly. He knew that, he knew he shouldn’t. He’d tried dozens of times to convince himself to stop, but it always came back to laying alone at night. He was lonely. Dooley eased the pain in his chest. He was just so bright, so cheerful and fun, despite his situation. Michael felt better just seeing him from a distance. 

“We’ll deal with that after,” Ramsey grunted, pushing on, “For now we need to find this mare.”

“What the fuck is a mare?” Michael wondered, “I’m guessing not the horse.”

“No, a nightmare,” Ramsey explained, “It’s a creature that sits on the chest of a sleeping victim and gives them nightmares. It drains their energy every night until they die from exhaustion.”

Michael felt panic slam into him like a bus. _Dooley was dying._ Guilt quickly followed. _Dooley was dying and I...I’ve been so fucking selfish._

“How do we find it?” He mumbled.

“We have to go through all the humans to find it since it’s disguised itself,” Ramsey answered, “Somehow it got past me and the other heroes, so our best bet is you. You’ll have to find the thing through your intuition. There’s about fifteen hundred humans.”

Michael was tired already. _Oh boy._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me to my patron saints: Ah, Michael’s too thirsty, I better dial it back.  
> Them: Or you could embrace it.  
> Me: ....you son of a bitch, I’m in.


	22. Chapter 22

“There has got to be a more efficient way to do this,” Haywood grumbled.

Michael rolled his eyes, shaking his head.The inmates were being shuffled past him in a long line. The staff that could be spared and Haywood’s minions were helping keep the line moving while Haywood stood as guard to Michael in case the mare reacted poorly to being discovered. It was a long, slow process and Haywood was not happy leaving Dooley alone. Neither was Michael for that matter. 

Honestly, he was suppressing a massive freak out. There were so many things happening. He was apparently a fucking superhero. Supernatural beings were all over the fucking place. The guy he was thirstier for than a desert was a fucking vampire. _Who wouldn’t freak out?_ But Dooley needed him not freaking. He had to keep it together for his sake. 

“Are you alright?” Haywood muttered suddenly.

“Huh?” Michael grunted, a bit dazed.

“Are you okay?” Haywood repeated, turning slightly to look at him, “You’re dealing with a lot right now, no one would blame you for needing a moment.”

“I’m fine,” Michael mumbled tiredly.

“You’re not,” Haywood insisted.

He leaned back.

“Warden Ramsey, pause a moment, please,” he called down the line.

Michael let Haywood guide him somewhere and push him into a soft seat. A soda was placed in his hand and he took a sip without thinking about it. He focused on Haywood as he sat beside him.

“What is happening?” He grumbled.

“We’re taking a break,” Haywood answered, “You’re useless if you’re too out of it to notice anything.”

“Fuck you?” Michael offered weakly.

Haywood snorted, but didn’t say anything else for a moment.

“What was your father and mother’s names?” He suddenly asked.

“Caleb and Violet,” Michael answered.

“Jones is your father’s surname?” Haywood guessed.

“Yeah.”

“Caleb, what was his father’s name?” Haywood questioned.

“Jacob.”

“His father?” 

“David.”

“And his?”

“Mark, his father was Joseph,” Michael mumbled, “That’s as far back as I know.”

“And it was Jones all the way?” Haywood guessed.

“Far as I know,” Michael confirmed.

“Your family is of Welsh origin,” Haywood reasoned, “Not very unusual for your type. But Jones is useless to discover if I knew your ancestors. Such a common name. And certainly biblical names are of no help. It’s extremely common for heroes to be named after biblical figures.”

“Why do you want to know?” Michael wondered.

“I’m curious where your power comes from,” Haywood admitted, “You must have a pretty incredible lineage considering your power. Though I’m curious how you were lost. Surely your parents should’ve told you what you were.”

“I was adopted,” Michael admitted.

“Well, then that entire exercise was completely useless,” Haywood grumbled, “But at least that answers why you weren’t told or trained.”

“Great,” Michael muttered dryly, “I cared so much.”

Haywood snorted and went quiet a moment again. Michael realized quite suddenly they were in a small room alone. Sitting pretty close on a couch as well. Where even were they? Looked a bit like the break room, but smaller and with only one table and fridge. The table was in the corner, with two couches instead of chairs which was where they were seated. Michael set the can of soda on the table, suddenly too nervous to drink any more.

“This is where I usually have meetings with Warden Ramsey,” Haywood explained as though he knew Michael had wondered, “It’s been here since the beginning.” 

“So you built this place,” Michael guessed.

Haywood hesitated to answer, considering it a moment before speaking.

“The original Warden Ramsey and I did, yes,” he confirmed. 

“What number is this Ramsey?” Michael wondered.

“Five,” Haywood answered.

“What’s it like watching people around you die all the time?” Michael blurted out.

_What. The. Fuck._ Haywood laughed, startling Michael. It was fuller than before, even more amused.

“I don’t think anyone’s ever asked me that before,” he mused, “I think most shy away from such an intense topic.”

“Yes, well, you know me,” Michael mumbled, “Anything but shy.”

“Indeed,” Haywood agreed, still sounding amused, “Death is unfortunate and sometimes it can hurt quite a lot, but I don’t feel that my experience with it is really that different from a regular mortal human. The only difference is I simply have much more experience with it.”

“So no emo brooding about not getting attached to us mortals because we just die?” Michael muttered.

“No brooding,” Haywood chuckled.

“I think this is the longest we’ve gone without arguing,” Michael pointed out.

“Indeed, your presence is almost tolerable right now,” Haywood snorted.

“Fucking asshole,” Michael laughed.

He suddenly felt a bit hysterical, his laugh changing to reflect that. He covered his face as the insane cackle burst out of him. _Oh god, everything is insane!_ He couldn’t breathe properly, couldn’t think, couldn’t get his head on right. He yanked at his collar, the fabric suddenly feeling like it was choking him. He tore at his buttons to try to get the shirt open and off his shoulders so he could breathe, but his fingers fumbled uselessly.

Haywood’s fingers undid his buttons easily and swiftly then pulled the fabric away from Michael’s neck. Michael gasped in grateful breaths as though he had been actually choked and was finally released. Haywood’s hands pulled away as Michael got his breathing under control.

“Are you alright now?” He prompted.

“I’ll live,” Michael mumbled.

He shrugged his shirt off his shoulders to get it fully off his neck and leaned forward to get a drink of the soda. Haywood cleared his throat, but Michael ignored him as he took a gulp. _Okay, we’re okay. Just need to relax._ He tilted his head, rubbing at his stiff shoulder and neck. _Relax. Stay calm._ Haywood’s hand touched his shoulder, startling him. 

“Easy,” he murmured, “Let me.”

Michael moved his hand and Haywood’s fingers dug into his tense muscle. He relaxed, humming as Haywood brought his other hand up to rub both of his shoulders. He knew exactly how to move his hands and fingers to chase the tension away and Michael couldn’t help the little groan that slipped out of him. Haywood’s hands stuttered in movement and he cleared his throat before starting up again. His fingers brushed over Michael’s neck and Michael tilted his head again to give him more room. 

“You have no idea what you’re doing,” Haywood whispered, suddenly closer than Michael remembered him getting.

Michael’s heart was suddenly thundering in his throat as he grasped the whole situation. He’d just bared his neck to a vampire. He shuddered as Haywood’s hand ran over his neck, closing around his throat. Not squeezing, just holding. _Suggesting._ Haywood leaned in, but before whatever was about to happen landed, the door to the room burst open.

“Ryebread, I figured it out!” Free announced as the two of them froze, “What in the bloody hell? Are you hazing?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Haywood grunted, pulling away from Michael, “What did you figure out?”

Michael hurriedly pulled his shirt back up, blushing badly as Free zipped over likely to flop down on Haywood’s lap. Haywood put up a hand, shifting where he was sitting.

“Don’t!” He hissed sharply.

Free flopped down beside him instead, grabbing at his sleeve while Michael quickly tried to button his shirt back up.

“The mare must’ve come in while Ramsey was away!” Free chirped excitedly, “X-Ray’s getting a list of all the transfers from that time! I mean, really, a supernatural getting past a Ramsey would be impossible!”

“Yes, I suppose that makes sense,” Haywood muttered, “But Ramsey would’ve approved all the transfers before going on vacation.”

“He admitted he didn’t meet some of them face to face,” Free explained.

“Ah, that explains a lot,” Haywood murmured.

Free sat up on his knees, grabbing Haywood around the shoulders and bouncing excitedly.

“Do I get a reward?!” He demanded eagerly, “I figured it out!”

“Yes, yes,” Haywood answered distractedly, “You may have your reward.”

“Yay!” Free cheered, hugging Haywood.

Haywood hugged him back, but he wasn’t paying attention. He was staring at the far wall, spacing out a bit. _What the fuck is happening right now?_ Haywood shook himself, regaining his focus and patted Free’s back.

“Surely this is enough?” He grunted.

“No, shush,” Free mumbled.

“The hug is your reward?” Michael snorted.

Free pulled back, scowling at him.

“Ryebread gives the best hugs!” He huffed, “Don’t interrupt!”

“Really, Gavin, we need to get back to work,” Haywood muttered, “Go tell them we’ll be right there.”

Free hugged him again briefly before zipping off. 

“Are you alright?” Haywood asked Michael.

“Stop fucking asking me that!” Michael snapped, standing up, “I’m not a weak little kid!”

He took the soda and stormed toward the door, Haywood following after him.

“I assure you I do not view you as a child,” Haywood snorted, “Despite your best efforts.”

“I do not act like a child, stop fucking saying that!” Michael huffed as he dropped the can in the trash.

“You’re always having tantrums,” Haywood pointed out, “Whining when you don’t get your own way. Picking fights with me for no real reason.”

“I have a reason!” Michael protested, “You’re a fucking dick is the reason! And I do not have tantrums!”

“Hm.”

“Don’t you hum noncommittally at me!”

“Hm.”

“Asshole!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh.


	23. Chapter 23

Michael frowned at the inmates they’d gathered up. 

“It’s none of these,” he muttered.

“Awe, I really thought I had it,” Free lamented.

“You had the right idea,” Haywood murmured thoughtfully, “But what if...We should speak privately.”

The lot of them, Free, Narvaez, Ramsey, Haywood, and Michael, all shuffled into the meeting room from before and Haywood pushed Michael onto the couch again.

“Someone fetch Jones’ lunch for him,” he ordered, putting a bottle of water in Michael’s hand, “Anyway, Gavin, I think you’re onto the right idea. But instead of Ramsey’s recent absence, we should look to before he inherited the position. Here, let me.”

He opened the water bottle that Michael was dazedly staring at. 

“Fuck off,” Michael grumbled weakly as he took a drink, “Why am I so fucking tired?”

“Most heroes become tired when they focus on their Sight,” Haywood explained, “Particularly the more untrained you are, the harder it is for you.”

“Wait, are you saying my mom was weaker than me?” Ramsey spoke up.

“Or perhaps during one of her absences was when the mare entered,” Haywood offered, “Possibly its been here even longer. Mares are immortals and it’s been many years now, they’ve had plenty of time to slip in somewhere.”

“But why wait until now?” Ramsey wondered.

“That’s easy,” Narvaez chimed in, “It’s the first time Ry’s shown any interest in anyone.”

Michael felt a flare of anger. _So it’s your fucking fault Dooley’s dying._

“Or Dooley captured the mare’s attention on his own,” Haywood suggested, “He certainly captured the interest of many.”

Michael glanced at him. He wasn’t looking at any of them and his face was expressionless as always, but Michael would have to be _literally_ blind not to see he didn’t believe that for a second. He was convinced it was his fault and probably felt pretty guilty about it. _Bastard, don’t be fucking remorseful, I’m trying to be mad at you._

“So how do we narrow this down?” Ramsey questioned, “Jack said she can’t keep him under forever. We need to hurry.”

“Hang on, the best disguise is one with some truth!” Free exclaimed, “What if it’s not pretending to be human at all? What if it’s pretending to be another supernatural?”

“That would be the best way for it to remain hidden as long as possible,” Haywood agreed, “Since obviously we’d look through all the humans first when we became aware of its presence.”

Michael’s food was put in front of him and he began eating it rather eagerly. 

“That makes Jones useless though,” Haywood added, “He can’t tell what a supernatural is.”

“Couldn’t it be blondie after all?” Michael mumbled, ignoring the utter despair Haywood’s comment had induced.

“You’re the only person who has ever lied successfully to Gavin,” Haywood dismissed, “And mares have no particular talent for lying.”

“He didn’t dodge the answer like Ryebreaad either,” Free chimed in, “He answered outright.”

_Damnit._ Michael had really been hoping he’d get the excuse. He scolded himself for thinking so selfishly at a time like that. Dooley was lying in a bed, life in danger and Michael was still trying to selfishly take him all for himself. The others began speaking about how to find the mare and he sighed as he opened his dessert. A snack cake he got from a vending machine. As it moved toward his mouth, Haywood’s hand snapped out and snatched his wrist.

“What the fuck?” He grunted.

Haywood pulled the cake to his nose, still holding Michael’s wrist. He sniffed it and his face drew up in disgust.

“Where did you get this??” He demanded.

“Er, one of the vending machines in the break room?” Michael answered, scowling at him, “I buy one at the beginning of the day and put it with my lunch.”

“This is the same type West gave Dooley,” Haywood muttered, “And it has Blood Poison in it. Ramsey, take this, I can’t touch it.”

“Blood Poison?” Michael repeated as Ramsey took the cake, “The hell is that?”

“It’s a poison that can be taken to make the blood poisonous to vampires,” Haywood explained, “I think the mare must have fed it to Dooley in an effort to poison me. Though it looks like perhaps they fed it to many if they put it in a vending machine.”

“Or they just fed it to the two you’re fucking,” Narvaez countered.

Haywood let go of Michael’s wrist like it was made of fire, hand snapping back sharply.

“You have misunderstood the nature of my relationship with Mr. Jones,” he murmured.

_Unfortunately,_ Michael lamented moodily.

“Either way, it looks like you’re fucking him,” Narvaez argued, “They’ve targeted him and Dooley because they think you’re going to drink them.”

“I don’t drink real blood,” Haywood muttered.

He glanced at Michael who got the feeling he was trying to reassure him specifically for some reason. _Does he think I’m fucking scared of him or some stupid shit like that?_

“Wait, if it’s poisoned my food,” Michael realized, “Then it’s fucking staff, not inmate.”

“We need to gather up the staff then,” Haywood grunted, “The night staff. It has to be someone who’s here when the inmates are sleeping.”

“I’ll get a list gathered up and we’ll work through them,” Ramsey answered, “Narvaez, Free, you’re with me. But you two stay here. I don’t want you in gen pop right now. You’re both in danger.”

“What about Dooley?” Michael and Haywood demanded together.

“You’ve got a small army watching him,” Ramsey reminded them, “He will be fine.”

Then he turned and left before they could protest again. Free and Narvaez were right behind him, leaving an awkward silence behind. Haywood got up and tried the door which was locked from the outside. 

“Five generations,” he growled, yanking on the doorknob.

He didn’t bother busting the door down or ripping the doorknob off, despite the fact Michael was pretty sure he could. He came and sat stiffly beside Michael, not looking at him. 

“I...apologize for earlier,” he murmured, “I nearly let myself get carried away with you.”

Michael scowled. _Great, we haven’t even fucking done anything and he’s already regretting it._

“Yeah, whatever, man,” he muttered. 

He was tired. 

“I just want to be sure you know I wouldn’t intentionally bite you without permission,” Haywood hurriedly explained.

“Yeah, I know,” Michael grumbled, “I’m not fucking scared of you.”

He _was_ actually a little scared. But Haywood was always in control, the fucking bastard, he’d never intentionally harm someone just for the sake of it. He would need a reason, which Michael had been trying to provide for a full week at least. Yes, a lot of their arguments were legitimate, but Michael wouldn’t be poking the bear so much if he didn’t want that bear to have his brutal way with him. 

But provoking him wasn’t working. How did Dooley seduce him? Well, Dooley had merely existed. That was all it took for him to be enticing. And he was braver than Michael though, he just went for it. Michael was clumsy and stupid with his interest. Too scared of being rejected, he guessed. He needed to woman up already.

“You’re immune, actually,” Haywood commented in a carefully casual tone, “To vampiric infection. It wouldn’t kill you or turn you. And it wouldn’t hurt much more than a regular bite.”

“Are you trying to convince me to let you bite me?” Michael asked, frowning at him.

“I was merely trying to assure you that even if I did, you wouldn’t be very damaged by it,” Haywood muttered, “But as I said, I would never intentionally do so without permission. I just don’t want you to have anxiety over it.”

“I don’t have-! I’m not scared of you!” Michael huffed.

Haywood sighed heavily.

“Why do you take everything I say as a personal insult?” He wondered quietly, “I’m...I’m trying to be nice.”

“I don’t want you to be nice,” Michael grumbled, dropping his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands.

He stewed quietly a moment before he lost the anger and slumped tiredly. 

“You can take a nap,” Haywood suggested.

“Yeah.”

Michael tugged his equipment off his belt, dropping it on the table and then took his boots off. On a whim he decided to torture Haywood by taking his shirt off, leaving his shoulders mostly bare and neck completely so in his undershirt. If Dooley could throw himself at Haywood, why couldn’t he? Then he flopped down and Haywood jumped in surprise at his thigh being used as a pillow. But he didn’t protest, so Michael didn’t move. A tentative hand brushed through his hair.

“Sleep well,” Haywood murmured, “I’ll protect you.”

Michael, for once, didn’t actually feel offended, instead feeling relieved someone had his back. He relaxed into the couch, settling into sleep easier than he usually did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am struggling to maintain enthusiasm. So nothing new.


	24. Chapter 24

Michael woke up to the sound of a door opening.

“What the hell?” Ramsey’s voice grumbled.

“He put himself there,” Haywood quickly explained, “I thought...I mean, shouldn’t we be a bit accommodating? He’s working so hard.”

“Uh, sure, I guess,” Ramsey muttered.

Michael tried to decide if he wanted to sleep more or get up as Ramsey’s footsteps made their way over.

“Have you found it?” Haywood questioned.

“We’re sifting through now,” Ramsey answered, “We’re waiting on some to show up still. But we still haven’t found them.”

Haywood sighed.

“How are you doing, Ry?” Ramsey prompted.

“I don’t have any reason to be hurt or upset,” Haywood pointed out.

“But you _are_ upset,” Ramsey guessed.

Michael thought maybe he should make himself known before this got any more serious.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Haywood mumbled.

“I want you to confide in me,” Ramsey admitted, “Tell me what’s bothering you.”

“You know I won’t do that,” Haywood snorted.

“I do,” Ramsey agreed, “But it’s always worth the shot. I’ll be back when we find it.”

“Thank you,” Haywood murmured.

“Uh, you’re welcome,” Ramsey grunted, “I’ll see you in a bit.”

He walked away and the door opened and closed again. 

“How long will you pretend to be asleep?” Haywood muttered.

Michael’s eyes opened and he turned onto his back to give Haywood a sheepish smile. 

“How are you doing?” Haywood prompted, sounding amused.

“Better,” Michael assured him.

“That’s good news,” Haywood grunted.

His eyes trailed down as always, sweeping over Michael’s bare neck and shoulders. Michael sat up, impatience rushing in his blood.

“Will you give me another one of your massages?” He requested, looking over his shoulder at Haywood, “You’re really good.”

Haywood cleared his throat and turned toward him, hands going to his shoulders. Michael temporarily forgot what he was doing as Haywood’s hands worked him over. _What was I doing? Baiting him, right. Come on, channel Dooley._ He leaned back slightly and tilted his head, groaning softly. Haywood’s fingers trembled as they brushed up Michael’s neck. 

“What...are you doing?” He murmured.

“Giving you permission,” Michael answered, face warm.

Haywood shifted closer, hand closing around Michael’s throat again. 

“For what exactly?” He muttered, “I don’t want to...misunderstand.”

Michael hesitated, now also worried about misunderstanding.

“What do you _want_ to do to me?” He countered.

Haywood’s face pressed to Michael’s head, lips on his ear.

“I want to taste you,” he whispered.

Michael shuddered.

“You can bite me,” he agreed, amazing he got it out without stuttering or shaking too badly.

Haywood’s hand firmed on his throat. His other arm looped around Michael’s middle and pulled him close in a sharp motion. Michael’s heart exploded, thundering in his chest. _Okay, okay, this is happening. It’s fucking happening._

“It will hurt,” Haywood warned him lowly, “Not much, but it will.”

“Th-That’s okay,” Michael assured him a bit shakily.

More than okay, it was _great._

“You may get aroused,” Haywood added, “Many humans do.”

_I’m already aroused, asshole._

“Y-Yeah, that’s fine,” Michael grunted.

“Generally it’s considered common courtesy for a vampire to take care of their human donor if they do get aroused,” Haywood muttered, “Is that something you’re comfortable with?”

Michael nodded, too afraid of the squeak that might come out of him if he tried to answer verbally. Haywood hesitated.

“I will try to be gentle,” he whispered.

_Don’t you fucking dare,_ Michael wanted to shout even though he knew at least the first time should be calmer. He was already wound up so tight, it would probably be a bad idea to get too intense. Haywood’s lips pressed to his neck. Michael shuddered as they brushed over him, as though Haywood was searching for the right spot. Then his teeth pressed to Michael’s skin. 

Michael hissed, jerking in his grip as his canines lengthened and sharpened, sinking into his flesh. _Fuck!_ They retracted just as quick and Haywood groaned against Michael’s skin as his blood flowed into his mouth. He unclamped pretty quickly, swiping his hot tongue over the two puncture wounds. 

“Bachgen hardd,” he breathed, lips mouthing against Michael’s skin, “Rwyf wrth fy modd â'ch blas.”

_What fucking language is that??_ Michael wondered dazedly through the cloud of arousal in his senses.Haywood cleared his throat, shaking his head.

“Are you alright?” He grunted.

“Y-Yeah,” Michael mumbled.

“You’re aroused,” Haywood pointed out needlessly.

His arm loosened around Michael’s waist and his hand dragged over his belly. Then it slid down to his belt, halting on the buckle.

“Is this still okay?” He murmured in Michael’s ear.

“Yes, hurry up!” Michael groaned, pressing back against him.

“You really need to learn respect, puer,” Haywood grumbled as he quickly unfastened Michael’s belt.

Then he undid his pants and Michael’s thighs were shaking with how bad he wanted to be touched. Haywood reached in and pulled Michael’s hard cock from his clothes. His other hand tightened on Michael’s throat again, still not really choking him, but reaffirming that he could. Michael gripped at his wrists, flexing up into Haywood’s moving hand and moaning loudly. Haywood shuddered against him as Michael tried to fuck up into his hand, sure that he wasn’t moving fast enough. 

“Stop squirming,” Haywood grunted, struggling to keep rhythm with Michael’s flailing, “I can’t get you off if you don’t sit still.”

“Fucking eat me, dickbag,” Michael growled.

“I already did that,” Haywood snorted.

“Fuck. _You!”_ Michael grit out through his teeth.

“Not likely,” Haywood scoffed, “I don’t receive.”

“Fuck, you’re an asshole,” Michael huffed.

Haywood chuckled, his chest rumbling against Michael’s back. Michael’s desperate shaking spread to the rest of him. He was convinced he _needed_ to come, trembling and whining against Haywood, but doing his best to stay still.

“Let it go, puero bello,” Haywood ordered gently.

Michael cried out as he came over Haywood’s hand. He went boneless, slumping tiredly against Haywood, panting to catch his breath.

“Bonum puerum,” Haywood praised lowly in his ear, “You can go back to sleep.”

Michael struggled not to while Haywood wiped up the mess. He failed to fight sleep off as Haywood shifted them around to lay back, nestling Michael between his legs and against his chest. He was too comfortable a bed, Michael fell asleep easily. Not before he managed to hear Haywood muttering something about being alive though, which was a conversation for future Michael to have.


	25. Chapter 25

When Michael woke up the second time, it was from Haywood jostling him, quickly urging him to sit up. He also got Michael’s shirt back on him before Michael was fully awake. He yawned, rubbing his eyes as the door opened and Ramsey came in again.

“Did you find it?” Haywood immediately prompted.

“Yes, but only because it ran for it,” Ramsey answered as he came over, “It’s been using some special magical artifact to disguise itself. If it hadn’t run for it, we probably wouldn’t have found it out. It’s been successfully getting away with this for a while now.”

He dropped a stack of papers and photos on the table and spread them out. Haywood and Michael leaned forward to look over them. There were several employee files, all from different years, some noticeably older in style. The people on the files all had separate photos that looked to be taken for an ID. There were also a bunch of stalker-like photos of Haywood in various places in the prison, again some noticeably older than the rest.

“We found all the photos in their place when we went to track them down,” Ramsey explained.

“Any idea where they’re headed?” Haywood questioned as Michael sifted through the employee files.

“No idea,” Ramsey admitted, “We’re trying to find a tracker now.”

“No need,” Michael muttered as he found the supposed current disguise, “They’re still here.”

“In Los Santos, you mean?” Ramsey grunted.

“No, in the prison,” Michael answered, turning the file around, “I met Brown, she’s not supernatural. I didn’t get any vibes from her.”

“There’s a disguise artifact involved, remember?” Ramsey pointed out.

“Yes, a disguise _you_ can’t see through,” Michael agreed, tapping his temple, “But I don’t see them, I feel them.”

“He’s onto something, actually,” Haywood murmured, picking up an older profile, “This is the one just before Brown. They quit five years before she started. Why would they wait five years if they’re so keen on staying near me?”

“Brown’s a scapegoat,” Ramsey grumbled, “And probably...dead somewhere. Shit.”

Haywood stood suddenly, grabbing Michael’s wrist and running from the room.

“What the fuck, Ry?!” Ramsey demanded, sprinting after them.

_Dooley, we’re hurrying to Dooley,_ Michael realized. Haywood was fast. Obviously because he was supernatural. Michael was not supernaturally fast and only had his socks on. So essentially Michael was only keeping up because he was sliding on the tile floor. He later socked Haywood for making him look so fucking stupid, but at the time he was trying not to puke from vertigo and the sudden anxiety that Dooley could be in trouble. 

They skidded to a stop outside medical and Michael nearly missed it, sliding past the door, only saved by Haywood’s iron grip on his wrist. The first clue that their worry wasn’t misplaced was that there were no guards, CO or inmate, by the door. They burst through the door, Michael fumbling for his taser. But he didn’t have the taser because he’d taken off his equipment when he’d taken the nap. 

_ Fuck. _

They hurried toward the beds to find Free sitting on Dooley’s. He was looking down at Dooley, a little smile curled on his face. Michael’s guts churned and he slapped a hand over his mouth. _No._ It wasn’t Free, it was the mare disguised as Free. 

“Look at the dynamic duo,” Free’s voice commented lightly, though his eyes stayed on Dooley, “Come to save the pretty damsel.”

He reached out to caress Dooley’s pale cheek and the two of them started forward.

“Don’t fucking touch him!” They growled together.

Free’s laugh sounded cold and cruel as he finally looked at them. 

“What a pair of twins you two turned out to be,” his voice mused, “What a surprise. The prodigy hero and the ancient vampire working together. Cooperating. Becoming friends.”

“In his fucking dreams,” Michael snorted, rolling his eyes.

“I don’t think I would classify us as friends,” Haywood agreed.

“Oh, you two finally fucked, how nice,” the mare laughed.

“Was that fucking?” Haywood wondered.

“What do you mean “was that fucking”?” Michael grumbled, turning toward him, “Of course that was fucking!”

“I told you, that was common courtesy,” Haywood muttered.

“Common courtesy?!” Michael demanded, “Is that really all that was to you?!”

“Is now really the time for this?” Haywood grunted, gesturing at the mare.

“Oh, don’t stop on my account,” the mare snorted, “I’m very much enjoying the soap opera.”

“Common fucking courtesy!” Michael huffed, “I should kick your fucking ass, dickbag!”

“I told you before it occurred,” Haywood pointed out, “You agreed to that. I don’t understand how I’m in the wrong here.”

“You-You infuriating arrogant fossil!” Michael shouted, “Why are you such a fucking asshole?!”

He swung his fist at the same time as Haywood, both landing on the distracted mare’s face. The mare shouted in pain and the image of Free flickered, replaced by an array of other people cycling through as Michael and Haywood each grabbed an arm. Some of the disguises Michael recognized as they twisted its arms around its back, Haywood’s people, other CO’s, blondie, Dooley even. He felt sick. How many times had this thing disguised itself and he hadn’t noticed? 

Ramsey arrived as the mare began to struggle against them, spewing curses. He handed Michael an odd looking pair of handcuffs that Michael quickly snapped on. The mare’s form stopped flickering, sticking to one disguise: a man Michael didn’t recognize with long brown hair and beard. He looked like Jesus. He choked as Haywood gripped his throat.

“Where is the real Axial?” He growled.

_He recognizes the disguise._

“F-Fuck you,” the mare wheezed.

Haywood’s eyes flashed and he put more pressure on the mare’s throat.

“You will tell me where he is,” he spoke coldly. 

“Ry, easy!” Ramsey interjected, gripping at Haywood’s forearm.

“Tace!” Haywood hissed.

“He can’t tell you shit if he can’t breathe,” Michael pointed out.

Haywood growled low in his throat.

“Protego,” he snarled, fingers digging into the mare’s throat.

_ Smack! _

Haywood grunted, blinking rapidly as Michael slapped him across the face. His head didn’t even move. Michael was slightly (totally) terrified that putting all his strength behind a slap had barely effected the guy. Haywood’s freezing eyes landed on him and Michael shuddered, resisting the urge to flee. Some primal part of him screamed that he was prey and Haywood was a predator. 

“D-Dooley is safe,” he spoke shakily, “We’re all safe. L-Let him go.”

Haywood released the mare, stepping back. He shook his head, rubbing at his temple. Michael let Ramsey take the mare from the clinic and cautiously approached Haywood. He reached out to touch his arm, worried about him. Haywood gripped his arms before he could touch him.

“You dumb brat!” He shouted, shaking him back and forth, “Don’t you understand I could’ve hurt you?!”

“Y-You wouldn’t!” Michael argued around his brain getting rattled.

“When a vampire hazes, there’s no telling what they’ll do!” Haywood snapped, “They lose control! They become slaves to their desires!”

Michael batted his arms away.

“I don’t know that the fuck that means!” He grumbled, “All I know is that you never hurt anyone who doesn’t deserve it! It’s actually fucking infuriating!”

Haywood’s scowl deepened in confusion and Michael blushed. Before he could backtrack or plow full speed ahead, Haywood glanced at the door and then reached out, straightening Michael’s shirt. _What the hell is this man doing??_ Then a flood of people bustled in, all talking at once. Pattillo went to Dooley to check on him while Narvaez, Free (who was sporting a black eye), and a few more of Haywood’s people talked with Haywood on what happened. 

Michael stepped closer to Dooley’s bed, hesitantly squeezing the man’s hand.

“Is he okay?” He mumbled.

“He’s...” Pattillo started, sounding worried, “He’s stuck.”

She laid her hand over his forehead.

“The mare trapped him in a nightmare,” she explained, “I’ve seen this before. He has to try to find a way out.”

Michael’s heart clenched in worry.

“Is there anything we can do?” Haywood asked, suddenly by Michael’s side.

Pattillo glanced at them, hesitating.

“Let’s wait for Geoff,” she suggested.

That did not put Michael’s heart at ease. 

“In the mean time, I’ll get you something to eat,” she offered Haywood, “Geoff said you almost hazed.”

“I’m not hungry,” Haywood muttered distractedly, not looking away from Dooley.

Pattillo seemed confused by that for some reason. Michael didn’t know what the fuck was going on and he was too tired and worried about Dooley to really care. Pattillo mentioned checking on Free and moved on. Haywood’s hand touched Michael’s lower back gently.

“Are you okay?” He murmured.

“Stop asking me that,” Michael muttered tiredly, “You know I’m not.”

“I’m...sorry for getting angry,” Haywood spoke quietly.

“Whatever, man,” Michael dismissed, “It’s fine.”

And it really was fine. _Because he was just worried about me. Because he fucking cares about me._ Haywood’s hand trailed around Michael’s back until he got to his side where he squeezed lightly. Michael didn’t dare move or comment though for fear the reassuring arm around him would be retracted.


	26. Chapter 26

Pattillo and Ramsey talked in Pattillo’s office while Michael paced back and forth anxiously and Haywood sat still as a statue beside Dooley.

“Can’t you hear them?” Michael grumbled.

“No, the room is soundproof,” Haywood answered.

“What’s taking so fucking long?” Michael wondered.

“They have to decide the best course of action,” Haywood muttered, “And what all they can tell us without us overreacting.”

“I’m gonna fucking overreact right now,” Michael huffed.

“Calm down, puer,” Haywood murmured, “Everything will be fine.”

“Stop acting so fucking calm!” Michael snapped, “He’s dying!”

“You think I don’t know that?!” Haywood fired back.

“Well, you’re not fucking acting like it!” Michael argued, “Why won’t you fucking react?!”

“I did!” Haywood countered, “I almost tore that damn thing’s throat out!”

Michael stopped pacing, turning his back to the man. _React to **me** , asshole._

“This isn’t about Dooley,” Haywood guessed, “You’re upset about something else.”

Michael’s shoulders hunched defensively.

“Is this about...earlier?” Haywood asked quietly.

_Obviously._ Michael touched the wound through his shirt.

“Did you...mean it, common courtesy?” He asked quietly, “Was that really all that was for you?”

Haywood didn’t answer right away.

“What else would there be?” He muttered.

Michael’s heart could’ve shattered. His hand fell away from the wound and clenched into a fist at his side. _Of course._ He’d thought...when Haywood had reacted the way he had, when he put his arm around him, he’d thought he...cared. But deep down he’d known that was impossible. 

“Wait, Jones, I-“ Haywood started, standing up.

The door of Pattillo’s office opening interrupted whatever he was about to say. Michael wondered if that was a good thing. He wasn’t sure he could take more rejection. This was why he hated confessing to wanting someone. He couldn’t handle rejection. He couldn’t be confident in himself regardless of how others felt. He couldn’t be like Dooley, why did he ever think he could? 

Ramsey and Pattillo came out of the office looking rather grim.

“What is it?” Haywood questioned, “What can we do?”

“Well, there’s a ritual we can perform,” Pattillo explained as she went to Dooley’s side, “Where we can merge his subconsciousness with someone else’s.”

She touched his wrist and looked at her watch.

“Sending someone into the nightmare with him, basically,” she continued, “Since Dooley likely doesn’t even realize he’s dreaming, the outside influence can help him get free. It would have to be someone with a deep emotional connection to him. Someone he truly cares for.”

Michael and Haywood both dropped into their chairs, heads in their hands.

“Oh god, it’s over,” Michael breathed.

“We can’t save him,” Haywood agreed.

“Uh, what about that says you can’t save him?” Ramsey wondered.

Michael barked out a sarcastic laugh.

“It’s too bad you’ve been gone, boss,” he sneered.

“Dooley doesn’t care for anyone,” Haywood muttered, “Not in a deeply personal way. There’s no such person to send in.”

“What about you two?” Ramsey pointed out, “Aren’t you both seeing him?”

“Fucking him,” Michael corrected bitterly, “Dooley doesn’t do emotional connections.”

“Then why the hell are you two so in love with him??” Pattillo wondered.

“I’m not in love with him!” Haywood and Michael protested.

She gave them a wry look and they both looked away. _Okay, maybe a little..._

“Anyway, you two are the closest we’ve got, it seems like,” she pushed on, “So for our best chance of success, it’s gotta be you two.”

“I’ll do it,” they volunteered together.

They looked at each other.

“Fuck you, this is my job,” Michael grumbled.

“I think I’m better equipped to help him with his emotions,” Haywood scoffed.

“Oh yeah, ‘cause you’re so fucking good at dealing with your own,” Michael sneered.

_Cold-hearted bastard._

“I certainly do a better job at reigning it in,” Haywood fired back.

“Fuck you, dude!” Michael snapped, “Just because I get fucking angry doesn’t mean shit!”

“Regardless, I’m stronger,” Haywood insisted.

“Fuck you, no you’re not!” Michael huffed, “I can still kick your ancient ass, you fossilized douchebag!”

Haywood’s eyes flashed dangerously.

“What did I tell you about your mouth?” He spoke lowly.

“That it isn’t good enough for you,” Michael muttered bitterly, turning away from him.

“Jones, that’s-“ Haywood started, voice gentler.

“Save it, asshole,” Michael grumbled, “We don’t have time for this bullshit. Someone needs to save Dooley.”

“Wow, this is better than reality tv,” Ramsey grunted, “Anyway, we’re sending you both in.”

Michael didn’t admit he was actually relieved. This entire thing sounded terrifying. He was anxious and scared. He didn’t need Haywood to like him (Hell, he wasn’t even sure he actually liked Haywood completely yet either) to know that he’d at least be good backup and have Dooley’s best interests at heart. If he’d learned anything from this mess, it was that Haywood actually cared about Dooley. _The fucking bastard._

“So we do the ritual, you two fall asleep, and you wake up in his subconscious,” Pattillo announced, “Easy peasy. Oh and you could all three die or fall into eternal slumber.”

Ramsey covered his eyes.

“Really, babe?” He muttered, “You couldn’t have said that better?”

“I panicked,” Pattillo admitted, rubbing the back of her neck and chuckling nervously.

“Basically, you can also get stuck,” Ramsey explained, “There’s a chance the nightmare will morph to accommodate and disorient you, causing you to forget it’s a dream and get yourself stuck as well. This is why two is better than one. If you go in together,you’ll more likely remember it’s a dream and why you’re there. But there’s still a risk. And of course, if you die in the dream, you die in real life too.”

_Well, that’s fucking terrifying._

“How do we do this then?” Michael grunted, “It’s not some weird shit like goat sacrifice is it?”

Haywood shot him a look he couldn’t decipher again.

“Ha, no,” Pattillo snorted, “For your part, you take a potion, you hold his hand, and you go to sleep. When you wake up, you’ll be in his nightmare and you’ll have to find him and get to the appropriate exit. Sometimes it’s a literal exit door, sometimes a portal, a hole, or an archway. Dooley will recognize it as the way out.”

“How safe is this for you?” Haywood asked her.

She blinked at him.

“What?” She grunted, confused.

“Is there some risk to you as the witch casting the ritual?” Haywood clarified.

“Er, no,” she answered.

“Can I take someone else?” Haywood asked.

“What the fuck, dude?” Michael grumbled.

“I don’t want to risk your life,” Haywood muttered.

He looked at Dooley, squeezing the man’s limp hand.

“It’s not less valuable than his,” he added.

Michael stared at him confusion. _What? Didn’t he just make it clear he doesn’t care about me?_ Haywood glanced up at him and cleared his throat.

“I mean, you’re a very strong hero,” he pointed out, “It would be a shame to lose your talents.”

_ Oh. Right. _

“Uh-huh, _talents,”_ Ramsey snorted.

“No one asked for your input, Ramsey,” Haywood grumbled, “Can I take someone else or not?”

“Not,” Pattillo answered, “It has to be someone connected with Dooley.”

Michael’s heart fluttered as he took Dooley’s other hand. _Connected._ He smiled. He really liked the sound of that. _Maybe we could..._ He touched the name tag on his shirt. No, Ramsey wasn’t going to allow it to continue. 

But that didn’t matter anyway. All that mattered was Dooley being safe. He set his shoulders as he squeezed Dooley’s hand. _I’m coming._ He glanced at Haywood across from him. _We’re coming,_ he corrected, _just hang on._

Pattillo handed them each a bottle that they drank the entire contents of. It tasted like blackberries. Michael wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but it wasn’t fucking blackberries. 

“The dream calls you,” Pattillo murmured.

Michael’s heart pounded in his chest as he felt sleepiness begin to overtake him. He panicked, reaching out for a lifeline. The lifeline grasped his hand. Haywood’s hand was warm and his eyes locked with Michael’s as they slumped over Dooley’s torso.

“You’re not alone,” he whispered, “I’ve got you.”

Michael squeezed his hand, unable to make any words come out as their eyes closed. 

~

Michael woke up in someone’s arms, blinking blearily as he sat up. Haywood, whose arms he was currently cradled in, stirred and blinked back at him. They shifted, looking around the building they were sitting in. It was nearly windowless, the walls beige, and the floor white and gray tile.

“The facility?” Michael grunted.

“Yes, please get off me,” Haywood grunted.

Michael stood, grumbling and glared down at his clothes. _Orange._ He was wearing a prison uniform. He watched Haywood stand up, brushing off a CO uniform.

“What the shit?!” He demanded, “You stole my fucking uniform!” 

“I didn’t,” Haywood snorted, “This one fits me and has my name in it.”

He tapped the name tag. He suddenly touched his hair, which was short. He pointed at Michael’s shoulder.

“You stole my hair!” He accused.

Michael touched the braid laying over his shoulder.

“How the hell did it get braided?!” He wondered wildly.

His hair was way too unruly and curly to braid. 

_“That’s_ your concern?” Haywood muttered dryly, “We’re in a nightmare and you’re-“

He halted, looking down the hallway suddenly. Michael scowled at him a moment until he heard what had interrupted him. A commotion of some sort. Then suddenly Dooley came skidding around the corner, sprinting as fast as his adorable little short legs could carry him. He looked surprised to see them, but too panicked and busy to really address it as a crowd of people, guards, inmates, and random civilians, came shouting around the corner behind him. Bullets and other projectiles zipped and pinged around Dooley and by extension Haywood and Michael too.

“Shit!” Michael hissed, ducking his head and turning to run for it as Dooley came up even with them, “What the hell?!”

“Sorry, no time to explain!” Dooley called as the three of them sprinted down the hall.

“I think there’s always time!” Haywood argued.

“It’s just my worst fear!” Dooley huffed, “You know, all the people I pissed off because I’m a whore in the same place!”

Michael looked back. _Fuck, that’s a lot of people!_ He looked at Dooley and smiled. He was just so glad he was technically alright. 


	27. Chapter 27

“They’ve completely passed,” Haywood murmured where he and Michael were pressed against the door to Ramsey’s office.

“How long can we stay hidden?” Michael wondered.

“How should I know?” Haywood grumbled.

“I don’t know, you’re like a zillion years old, aren’t you supposed to be fucking wise??” Michael huffed.

“Do not exaggerate,” Haywood snorted.

“Well, could you fucking guess at least?” Michael muttered.

“No.”

“Asshole!”

“So...when did you two fuck?” Dooley chimed in.

Michael and Haywood both whipped their heads around to look at him. He raised an eyebrow.

“Wow, you really did fuck,” he commented, “That was just a wild guess. Who topped?”

“No one!” Michael cut in before Haywood could, “We didn’t-it wasn’t like that!”

“So what, handjob?” Dooley guessed.

“Yes,” Haywood answered, “I jerked him off.”

Michael glared at him.

“What?” Haywood grunted, “Shouldn’t we be honest with him?”

He had a point, the bastard. Michael sighed.

“Does it fucking matter?” He mumbled bitterly as he settled with his back against the door, “It didn’t mean anything. Common fucking courtesy.”

“Marital problems this early?” Dooley snorted.

“Jones, I...about what I said,” Haywood murmured, “I...I didn’t mean...”

He sighed, looking away.

“This isn’t the time to talk about it,” he muttered, “We can talk about it when we get out of here.”

_What is there to say anyway?_ Michael wondered moodily.

“So I _am_ in a dream then?” Dooley prompted, “Because I was starting to suspect before I saw you two. And...something tells me something’s wrong with you guys too, but I can’t focus on it.”

“We’re switched,” Michael answered, “I’m actually a CO, remember?”

Dooley frowned.

“That’s a weird detail,” he grumbled, “Why would you switch in my dream world? Oh, no, wait, I know why.”

They looked at him in confusion and he chuckled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Michael would never play into the power imbalance,” he explained, “But Ryan totally would.”

“You called me-“ the two of them started together.

“-Ryan.” “-Michael.”

“I can’t believe the ice king and the fiery knight turned out to be so similar,” Dooley commented thoughtfully, “I guess cold and hot are similar in certain ways at their base.”

“Power imbalance, you said,” Haywood murmured, shifting to turn toward him slightly, “You’re interested in role-playing to some degree?”

“Jesus, you talk like such an old man,” Dooley sneered, “Yes and I have a bit of a uniform kink.”

“I could, uh,” Haywood started, clearing his throat, “I could probably-“

“Are you two fucking serious right now??” Michael hissed, “Now is not the fucking time! We need to get out of here!”

“Awe, spoilsport,” Dooley pouted, “So how do we get out?”

“There’s some sort of exit,” Haywood explained, “Apparently you’ll recognize it when you see it.”

“Any clue where it is?” Dooley prompted.

“Not really,” Haywood answered, shrugging, “I think we just have to search for it.”

“Well, great,” Dooley grumbled.

The three of them stood and peeked out of the door before exiting the room. 

“Maybe the front door?” Dooley suggested.

“That’s as good a guess as any,” Haywood agreed.

They headed for the front, cautiously looking around corners and dodging anyone they saw. At the front doors, Dooley frowned.

“Nope,” he grunted, “This is not it.”

“Perhaps the side door in the kitchen?” Haywood offered.

“The kitchen would be my favored place, I think,” Dooley snorted.

They went to the kitchen, still no dice. From there they worked through all the exits, becoming more frustrated as time went on. None of the exits from the prison were the right one, apparently.

“So it’s not an exit door,” Dooley muttered, “What is it then?”

“It could be a door into a room,” Haywood pointed out.

“My cell?” Dooley guessed.

“Possibly,” Haywood agreed.

Michael sighed as he trailed behind them toward Dooley’s cell. Thus far he’d not contributed in the slightest. He was basically a third wheel watching the other two. Haywood kept putting his hand on Dooley’s lower back and squeezing his side like he’d done to Michael. It was annoying to watch. 

They tried Dooley’s cell, then Haywood’s. Michael was starting to get discouraged. They were stuck in a prison dodging snarling assholes that called Dooley a whore and seemed to be fucking everywhere. It sucked. Everything sucked. _Might as well settle in ‘cause we’re gonna be here awhile._

They went to the meeting room he and Haywood had been in, in the real world and settled down to think. Michael was too tired to pace and sat beside Dooley on the couch.

“I’m...glad to see you,” he mumbled, “Though I wish it was different. This fucking sucks.” 

“Aww, you’re so sweet,” Dooley cooed, pinching his cheeks, “I could just eat you up, you’re so cute!”

Michael blushed no doubt the ugliest shade of tomato his face could come up with.

“Sh-Shut up!” He huffed, batting Dooley’s hands away, “I-I am not cute!”

“So cute!” Dooley squealed, launching at him.

He smashed their mouths together and threw his arms around Michael’s neck. Michael’s mind blanked as it always did when Dooley kissed him.

“Wait, that’s it!” Haywood exclaimed, standing abruptly and startling the two of them apart, “I know where the door is!”

He took Dooley’s hand to lead the way and Dooley took Michael’s hand to drag him along. Michael tried not to be a dumb teenager, giddy at Dooley’s hand in his. He _tried._ They snuck past a few people and peeked around a corner to look at several people guarding a door.

“The chapel?” Michael prompted.

“He’s right,” Dooley muttered, “It’s the exit. But why?”

“It’s where you first learned Michael’s first name,” Haywood answered.

Michael and Dooley looked at him and after a second he realized they were staring and looked back.

“What?” He grunted.

“How did you know that?” Dooley questioned, crossing his arms.

Haywood chuckled nervously.

“I, uh...Marks was following you,” he confessed. 

Michael covered his face, mortified. _How much of it did he hear?!_

“Fucking Christ, Ryan,” Dooley muttered.

“You called me Ryan again,” Haywood commented lightly.

“Ah, I did,” Dooley murmured, “It must be a dream thing.”

“You can...keep calling me that,” Haywood offered quietly, “If you want.”

“Okay,” Dooley agreed.

“Y-You can call me Michael too!” Michael hastened to add.

Dooley grinned at him.

“Getting a bit jealous, Jonesy?” He teased.

“N-No!” Michael protested.

_Just nothing but solid comebacks from Michael Jones, really._

“Can...Can I call you Jeremy?” He mumbled.

“Sure, I don’t see why not,” Jeremy agreed, “You both can. Anyway, how do we get rid of these assholes guarding the door?”

They peeked around the corner again. There were six people guarding the exit. 

“Two each?” Michael offered.

“No need, I can handle all of them,” Haywood dismissed.

“Show off,” Michael sneered, “Are you sure? Maybe it’s different in a dream?”

“Hm.”

Haywood reeled back and slammed his left fist into the wall. He grunted, shaking his hand as he pulled it away.

“No crack,” he muttered.

“Is coke okay?” Jeremy snorted, slapping a hand over his giggles.

“Jesus Christ, Dooley,” Michael grumbled, “For someone in a coma, you’re damn cheerful.”

“That’s my special skill,” Jeremy laughed, “Unending optimism.”

“Can we focus?” Haywood murmured, “I don’t have my strength, so I need help after all.”

“Ha!” Michael barked, “Welcome to the mud with all the other peasants, you pretentious fuckwit.”

“I’m not sure why you thought that called for your sass,” Haywood grumbled.

“He rarely has reason for his sass,” Jeremy grunted, “I’ll go for the middle two, Ryan takes the left two, Michael the right. Okay?”

Michael and Haywood nodded and then the three of them ran around the corner, sprinting at the unsuspecting guards. Jeremy went straight for a football tackle, slamming into the first guard like a mobile brick wall. Haywood hit his first opponent with a roundhouse to the face. Michael who was neither solid nor flexible, simply kicked his opponent right in the crotch, lifting them at the force of it. 

He lost track of the other two as his opponent howled in pain and the second launched at him. He dodged a jab and countered with his own, breaking their nose with a sick cracking noise. He pressed them, firing off a devastating right hook that might’ve deafened them if he’d aimed at their ear instead of their temple. As it stood they wobbled, on the verge of passing out and he assisted by slamming his left fist into their other temple. 

They dropped and he started to turn back to destroyed genitals only to end up with an arm around his neck. He sent his elbow into their ribs and they hissed, but didn’t let go. He changed tactics, bending and flipping them over his head. His shoe smashed their face in, also breaking their nose as he curb-stomped them until they stopped twitching. 

He looked around in time to see Jeremy on the ground, punching his last opponent while Haywood was wiping blood off his lip. There was something incredibly arousing about Haywood in a uniform, wiping blood off his mouth with knocked out bodies at his feet. _Oh, lord have fucking mercy._ Michael swallowed thickly as Haywood’s eyes landed on him.

“Are you okay?” He questioned.

“Huh?” Michael grunted incoherently, “Oh, y-yeah, I’m fine.”

Haywood looked at Jeremy who was standing, wiping his bloody knuckles off on his pants. 

“Do- _Jeremy,_ are you alright?” He prompted.

Jeremy scowled at him.

“Right, of course you are,” Haywood murmured, “Let’s go, shall we?”

They went to the door and Jeremy opened it, letting it swing open fully. On the other side was nothing but darkness. _Well, that’s terrifying._

“I think we have to go first,” Haywood grunted, “Since it’s your dream, it should disappear when you go through which might trap us in the aether.”

“Wow, I hate that,” Jeremy snorted, “Alright, in you go. I’ll see you on the other side.”

“Come through immediately,” Haywood instructed firmly, “Don’t wait, okay?”

“You worried about me, Ryan?” Jeremy teased, putting his arms around Haywood’s neck.

Haywood looked away.

“Of course I’m worried,” he mumbled.

“So cute,” Jeremy cooed.

He lifted on his toes and kissed Haywood lightly. Then he pulled back and shoved Haywood’s chest with both hands.

“You little-!” Haywood started as he fell into the doorway.

He was cut off as he disappeared into the darkness. Michael laughed, but his amusement didn’t last long as Jeremy turned to him, grinning evilly.

“Whoa, easy there!” Michael placated, hands going up, “I can go through on my own!”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Jeremy laughed.

Then he seized Michael’s shirt and lifted him off the ground. _Oh sweet mother of Jesus!_

“J-Jeremy, wait-!” Michael cried.

Then he was airborne. Jeremy tossed him in the doorway, cackling madly. Michael shouted as he fell through the darkness, but the sound didn’t leave his mouth. He jolted upright as he slammed back into his body.

“That little shit!” He huffed.

Haywood grumbled some agreeing sentiment. Michael noticed they were still holding hands and quickly retracted his. He glanced around, blushing to find the room much more occupied than before. Seemed like the whole band was gathered up, watching them sleep. _Great._ He looked back at Jeremy anxiously. _Come on, wake up._ He and Haywood glanced at each other nervously. Michael’s heart pounded in his chest.

“Come on, you little asshole, go through the door!” He snapped, shaking Jeremy’s shoulder.

“Easy, puer,” Haywood muttered.

“Easy yourself, old man,” Michael hissed.

“Please do not start again,” Haywood grumbled.

“Stop calling me a fucking boy!” Michael huffed, “I am an adult!”

“I’m not trying to talk down to you!” Haywood shouted, “Why do you take everything I say so terribly?!”

“Because everything you say is fucking rude!” Michael countered.

“Not this!” Haywood insisted, “This is-!”

He stopped, glancing at the gathered crowd.

“I...will talk to you later,” he mumbled.

“Wow, this is that good drama for popcorn eating,” Jeremy croaked.

“Jeremy!” Haywood and Michael cried together.

They both moved to lean over him and smacked their skulls together.

“Fucking ow!” Michael huffed, rubbing his head, “Watch it!”

“You’re the one with a boulder for a skull, _you_ should watch it!” Haywood fired back, also rubbing his head.

“Fuck you, asshole!” Michael growled, “I’m gonna-!”

Suddenly their heads were pushed and they grunted as their mouths were painfully knocked together. 

“That’s better,” Jeremy announced.

A ripple of laughter sounded through the room as Michael and Haywood jerked away from each other. They glared down at Jeremy who just grinned and laughed. Michael’s scowl softened. _Damnit. How can I be mad at sunlight?_

“You know if you were supernatural, I’d think you’d be a sun god or some shit,” he snorted.

“What a bizarre thing to say,” Jeremy grunted, sitting up further, “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Don’t you know about all the supernatural shit?” Michael muttered.

“Ah, Jones, we don’t usually tell the regular humans,” Ramsey spoke up, “But I guess he’s got a right to know now.”

“Wait,” Haywood cut in, “Jones, you said if he _was_ supernatural. You don’t get any feelings around him?”

“Not about him being supernatural,” Michael mumbled, blushing.

“What?!” Haywood demanded, standing and startling the whole room, “You’re not a siren?!”

_What the hell is a siren?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original nightmare was awful, I just want you all to know it could’ve been bad.


	28. Chapter 28

Jeremy looked startled and confused by Haywood’s sudden outburst.

“Er, you mean the pet name you call me sometimes?” He prompted.

“P-Pet name??” Haywood sputtered, “No! I-I thought that’s what you were! Then, we learned about the mare hiding from us. I thought you were hiding from Ramsey some how, for some reason! What the fuck?! How did you entrance the cafeteria?!”

Jeremy just blinked at him.

“I literally have no idea what you’re talking about,” he finally said.

“But I noticed the others-“ Haywood started.

He halted, eyes going wide. His face went crimson and he slapped a hand over his mouth. Narvaez started laughing.

“Oh my god!” He choked, “Ry’s empathy got everyone hot for short stack!”

Haywood dropped back into his chair, covering his face. Michael and Jeremy looked at each other as everyone else laughed.

“What the fuck are they on about?” Jeremy grunted.

“No idea,” Michael answered, shrugging.

“Ryebread has empathy powers,” Free explained, “He can feel what others feel and vice versa. Apparently when he first saw you, he liked you so much it affected others in the area.”

“Oh my god, the power of this man’s boner!” Narvaez choked around laughter.

“Empathy powers,” Jeremy repeated, “You mean he’s like magic?”

“He’s a vampire,” Michael answered.

Jeremy processed this for a moment.

“Oh.”

“Fucking “oh” is all you’ve got?” Michael muttered dryly.

“I mean, it just makes sense,” Jeremy admitted, shrugging, “He’s like magnetically attracted to my pulse and he likes the idea of biting me, but won’t actually do it.”

“Thank you, Jeremy!” Haywood shouted, voice strangled where his face was still in his hands, “We don’t need examples!”

“So I shouldn’t mention you bent your bed frame the time I-?” Jeremy started.

“No!” Haywood interrupted.

“Alright, alright, grouchy,” Jeremy huffed, “So...are you telling me my ass is... _supernatural?”_

“Noooo!” Haywood groaned miserably.

Jeremy laughed and the sound was like music to Michael who suddenly found himself overwhelmed. He hugged Jeremy tightly, squeezing him close.

“I-I was so fucking worried!” He huffed, “Don’t fucking do that shit to me!”

“I-I’ll do my best!” Jeremy wheezed, patting his back rapidly, “Can someone tell me what the fuck is going on?”

Michael caught him up as well as he could with the others chiming in with details. Even Haywood piped up occasionally, though he didn’t removed his face from his hands. Michael honestly wouldn’t blame him if he went into hiding and never emerged again. 

“So where’s Axial then?” Jeremy asked as they wrapped up the recap.

“We don’t actually know,” Ramsey muttered, sighing, “We’ve looked everywhere and we can’t find him. The mare also said he wouldn’t tell anyone but you. Alone.”

“No way in hell,” Michael growled.

“Absolutely not!” Haywood agreed, finally looking up, “It isn’t safe for Dooley to be alone with it!”

“I’ll do it,” Jeremy answered, shifting to get out of bed, “It can’t be so bad. You said it’s all chained up, right?”

“Yes, of course,” Ramsey confirmed.

“This is not acceptable!” Haywood insisted, standing up to try to block Jeremy’s path.

“I agree, it could hurt you!” Michael chimed in, also getting up.

“You two dumbasses would know about risking life and limb,” Jeremy snorted, “Where’s my shoes?”

Pattillo retrieved them while Haywood and Michael continued to try to argue with him. He ended the conversation by sticking his tongue out and flipping them off with a “nyeh!” Then the whole parade marched off to where the mare was being kept in one of the lawyer visiting rooms. 

Michael was again too tired to pace, leaning against the wall as they waited. He was hard core avoiding eye contact. He knew Haywood would corner him to talk eventually, but he really hoped to avoid it as long as possible. Haywood ended up beside him before Jeremy reappeared.

“Are you alright?” He asked gently.

“Fine,” Michael grunted gruffly.

Haywood hesitantly touched his shoulder.

“I will explain more later,” he murmured, “But for now, I think you should know, puer isn’t just “boy”. That’s the literal translation, but it can be used to refer to a younger male partner as well.”

“What does that mean?” Michael grumbled.

“It means it’s a...term of endearment,” Haywood explained quietly, “A pet name. Similar to babe or baby.”

Michael looked over at him in surprise.

“In that context it’s usually possessive as well,” Haywood added under his breath, “As in _“my_ boy”.”

He cleared his throat, awkwardly patting Michael’s shoulder before retracting his hand.

“I just thought...you shouldn’t misinterpret,” he mumbled, turning to face away from Michael.

“Ha, fork it over!” Narvaez barked, startling Michael.

He tore his eyes away from staring at Haywood in shock and looked over to see Narvaez had his hand out toward Free who grumpily put something in it. _What in the fuck?_ Before that or any other question could be addressed, Jeremy emerged from the room looking pale. Michael and Haywood were by his side in an instant.

“He’s...in the greenhouse,” he mumbled.

“We checked there,” Ramsey grunted.

“Under the floorboards,” Jeremy added, “In the northeast corner.”

“You all hurry and get him out,” Haywood ordered, “Jones and I will take Jeremy back to medical.”

He and Michael each took one of his arms to guide him and he wobbled as they made their unsteady way back to medical.

“It...said no one even noticed,” he murmured weakly, “Because no...no one cared about Axial. It was...it was sleeping right below me...the entire time.”

He suddenly slapped a hand over his mouth and Haywood took off like a blur. He was back in a second with a trash can that Jeremy promptly hurled into, shaking terribly. Michael looped an arm around him to help keep him up while Haywood held the trash can steady for him. 

“H-How did I not notice??” He cried.

“Shh, you couldn’t have known,” Haywood soothed, brushing his hand through Jeremy’s hair, “You barely knew Axial and you didn’t even know supernatural beings existed.”

Michael noted the slight hint of bitterness in his voice and the fact his eyebrows were together. _He thinks **he** should have noticed._ Michael wished he had the right words to comfort him with. They started up their unsteady trek to medical and Dooley was in bed drinking a soda when the rest of the mystery gang came pouring in. Pattillo and Ramsey were carrying the unconscious form of who Michael recognized as Axial, the disguise the mare had taken. Haywood rushed over to take over.

“You shouldn’t carry heavy things,” he murmured at Pattillo as he took the man from them.

“That’s like second or third trimester shit, relax, Ry,” Pattillo snorted as Haywood carried Axial to one of the beds on the end, “I swear you’re worse than Geoff already.”

“I told you, I wasn’t close for the others,” Haywood muttered, “I’ve never been this close to a pregnant person before. I don’t know exactly how it works.”

“Aww, you saying we’re close, Ry?” Pattillo snickered as she bustled around Axial.

“You are not sassing for three right now,” Haywood grumbled, “I meant physically close and you know it.”

“Is he going to be okay?” Jeremy asked quietly.

Michael squeezed his hand reassuringly. Or at least he hoped it was reassuring.

“He’ll be fine,” Pattillo assured, “He’s got strong roots.”

Ramsey and Free both immediately cracked up while Haywood and Narvaez shook their heads disapprovingly. Pattillo tried to keep a straight face, but cracked almost immediately. 

“Oh, he’s like a...nymph?” Jeremy guessed, looking at Michael.

“I guess?” Michael offered, shrugging, “I’m barely even sure what I am, dude.”

“Other than adorable?” Jeremy teased, grinning at him.

“Sh-Shut up!” Michael huffed, blushing, “I am _not_ adorable, stop saying that!”

“So adorable!” Jeremy cooed, pinching his cheek.

“Nooo!” Michael cried, batting his hand away.

“I’m gonna fucking barf,” Ramsey muttered.

“Ha, I just remembered Ryan empathy’d his boner onto gen pop,” Narvaez laughed.

“Alright, enough!” Haywood huffed, pushing him, Free, and Ramsey toward the door, “It’s lights out already! Get out of here so Jeremy can rest!”

“What about Jones??” Ramsey pointed out.

“Er, he...they need a guard,” Haywood pointed out, “No one asked you, shoo!”

They grumbled as they were herded out of the room and Haywood was still blushing as he came back to Jeremy’s side. 

“I just want you to know, I’m extremely flattered,” Jeremy told him, pinching his red cheek. 

“I’m so fucking embarrassed,” Haywood confessed miserably, not even bothering to bat away Jeremy’s hand, “I thought-Fuck, that’s embarrassing!”

“Yes, yes it is,” Jeremy agreed, patting his head, “But you’ll live.”

“No, I won’t,” Haywood huffed.

“Don’t be dramatic,” Jeremy chided lightly.

Haywood hugged him suddenly, wrapping his arms tightly around him and burying his face in his shoulder. 

“Fuck, this was so scary!” He cried, muffled into Jeremy’s shirt, “I thought I lost you!”

“B-Bit harder to get r-rid of than that, darlin’,” Jeremy wheezed, patting his back, “Jesus you two are practically identical.”

He buried his face in Haywood’s shoulder.

“Fuck, you give good hugs,” he mumbled.

Michael hummed in annoyance at being left out. Haywood’s hand shot out and grabbed his shirt, yanking him into the now group hug. Michael blushed at being so easy to read, but was overflowing with warmth at being smushed together with these two fucking bastards. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We almost done with this. Chapter 30 is the last chapter.   
> Also: I’m pretty sure I won’t be doing FAHC fics any more. I have a FAHC inspired “original” crew that I *may* be posting here in the future and I’m considering trying to find other fandoms to become active in. So if you do like my writing, stay tuned cuz I have not yet decided to abandon ao3? 😅


	29. Chapter 29

Haywood waited until Axial and Jeremy were stable to pull Michael aside. It was late enough Pattillo had gone home, so Haywood took Michael into her office. Michael felt a bit nervous being stuck in an enclosed space with him. Not because he was scared of him, but because now he’d made it known he liked Michael at least to some degree. 

“J-Er, _Michael,”_ Haywood murmured as they sat, “What I said before, about there being no other reason...I only said it because...I’m a coward. I was scared of giving you power over me by admitting I want you.”

Michael fidgeted nervously with the ends of his shirt. 

“Then...you do want to...?” He mumbled, face burning.

“I wanted to touch you more than I wanted to taste you,” Haywood admitted, “I...just thought you wouldn’t want me to touch you outside of biting you.”

“Well, you’re a fucking idiot,” Michael grumbled, “I’ve wanted to fuck you for awhile now. It had literally nothing to do with you biting me.”

“Yes, well, your actions don’t exactly match your words,” Haywood snorted, “You made it seem like you hated me. How was I supposed to know you were attracted to me when all you do is call me old and argue with me?”

“Because I’m obviously tsundere!” Michael huffed, looking away from him, “I only provoked you so much because...Um, b-because...”

He sputtered out, too embarrassed to finish the thought. Apparently, he didn’t have to.

“Ah, I see,” Haywood muttered, “You really are a little brat.”

Michel covered his burning face.

“Sh-Shut up!” He huffed.

“Jeremy was right, you _are_ adorable,” Haywood chuckled.

“No, shut up, s-stupid idiot!” Michael cried.

“Michael, come here,” Haywood beckoned.

Michael moved his hands and looked over at him. He had a small sort-of smile on his face, leaning back in the chair. He patted his leg. Michael hesitantly stood and went to him, carefully sitting on his thigh and putting his arms around his shoulders. Haywood was giving him a very heated look as one hand slid up his thigh. Michael surged toward him, nearly head-butting him, trying to kiss him. Haywood grunted, but pressed back quickly.

Kissing him wasn’t like kissing anyone else. Haywood was clearly in the lead position, his tongue pressing into Michael’s mouth, his teeth nipping at his lips, his hand on the back of his neck keeping him where he wanted him. It was entirely new to Michael to be on the receiving end, but he was taking to it very well, he thought. When Haywood pushed him, he gave way immediately, letting himself be pressed into the desk behind him, then down over it as Haywood yanked his pants open. 

“Lube?” Haywood grunted, between his demanding kissing.

Michael fumbled with one of his pockets to get it and pass it to him. Haywood pulled back to flip him over before rubbing lube-slick fingers over Michael’s asshole. Michael jolted against the desk and shuddered. _That is way different than doing it to myself._ Haywood hesitated.

“Are you-?” He started.

“Yes, hurry the fuck up!” Michael snapped.

“Alright, alright,” Haywood grumbled, “We’re going to have to work on your behavior, puer.”

He pushed his finger inside Michael before he could snark back at him. He pressed his lips to Michael’s ear.

“Starting with how you address me,” he murmured, “You call me sir, do you understand?”

Michael wanted to answer both “yes, sir” and “fuck you”. 

“Fuck you, _sir,”_ he sneered.

Haywood gripped his hair and yanked his head back as his finger shoved deep inside him. Michael hissed and his trembling thighs spread. _Oh god._

“You really are a little fucking brat,” Haywood growled, “You make it so difficult not to discipline you constantly. But that’s what you want, isn’t it?”

He shoved a second finger inside Michael along with the first.

“You want me to teach you to behave,” he whispered hotly in Michael’s ear, “Don’t worry, puer, I have plenty of ways of punishing you.”

_Fuck._ Michael swallowed thickly, biting down on his tongue and closing his eyes. 

“Let’s try again,” Haywood murmured, “You call me sir, do you understand?”

“Y-Yes, sir,” Michael choked out brokenly.

“Good boy,” Haywood purred.

He released Michael’s hair, rubbing his fingertips over his scalp.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” He spoke softly.

“Yes, sir,” Michael mumbled, gripping the edge of the desk tightly.

Haywood slipped a third finger inside him.

“Good boy,” he repeated, “This is your first time, isn’t it?”

Michael hid his burning face in his arms.

“Yes, sir,” he squeaked.

“You’re doing so well, darling,” Haywood assured him, kissing the back of his neck, “I’m guessing that’s because you play with yourself a lot.”

Michael wanted to cover his head he was so embarrassed. 

“Do you...think about me when you touch yourself?” Haywood muttered.

“S-Sometimes,” Michael admitted quietly.

Haywood shifted behind him.

“Y-Yeah?” He huffed breathlessly, “What do you imagine?”

Michael registered he was touching himself and bit his lip as he flushed hotter. 

“I-I imagine y-you holding me down,” he confessed, hot with shame and arousal, “S-Spanking my ass and fucking me when I c-can’t move, so I just have t-to take it. C-Cuffing me to your bed and u-using me over and over again ‘til I’m f-full of your come.”

“Fuck.”

Haywood shifted, lifting up and quickly pulling his fingers from Michael while he pushed his pants and underwear out of the way. Michael lifted a bit to peek over his shoulder, watching as Haywood rubbed lube over his cock. Dooley had been telling the truth: it was slightly thicker and shorter than his. 

“Are you enjoying the view?” Haywood teased as he shifted forward.

“M-Maybe,” Michael grumbled, burying his red face back in his arms, “Please, hurry the fuck up!”

“Well, at least you said please,” Haywood snorted as he pressed his cock up to Michael’s asshole, “Baby steps. Mnh, f-fuck.”

He pushed a hand up Michael’s shirt as he pressed inside him, groaning. Michael did his best to stay relaxed, hissing out breaths through his teeth and gripping the desk so tight his fingers ached. It didn’t hurt that much, but he was a little tensed from being so keyed up. _Nervous._ He wasn’t Jeremy, this was new territory for him, even if it was territory he had been exploring very heavily. 

“Michael, are you alright?” Haywood murmured, squeezing his hip.

“Y-Yes, I...” Michael sniffled, “I just...am I...d-doing good?”

“You are doing so good, puer,” Haywood assured him, rubbing his hip soothingly, “You...You’re taking me so well. You’re being a very good boy for me. I’m sorry, I’m...not good at talking. I’ll try to be better.”

“Really, ‘c-cause it seems like you’re fucking great at it!” Michael huffed.

“You sound angry even when you’re complimenting me,” Haywood laughed.

“I-It’s just my nature!” Michael grumbled, “I can’t fucking help it! Please fuck me now!”

Haywood leaned back over him and kissed his ear.

“Only because you asked so nicely,” he chuckled.

_Don’t sass me while you’re in my ass!_ Haywood’s hips rolled against him a couple times before he started fully thrusting, jostling Michael against the desk. Michael’s head went fuzzy like tv static. This was way better than his own fingers. He moaned, his back curving as Haywood’s hips slammed against his ass.

“F-Fuck, right, right, talk,” Haywood grunted, “F-Fuck, you feel so good, puer. Puer, puer. Tantum mea. Stricta calidum. V-Volo enim vos usque, mnh, in sempiternum. Ohh. Puero bello- _Ah!”_

Michael tightened around him, cutting off the flattering things he was spitting out. It did not exactly work though. 

“Ita stricta, ita bonum,” Haywood groaned as he picked up his pace, “Tam bonus. Boni pueri mei.”

He spewed shorter, less coherent Latin sentences with Michael’s name littered throughout them as he fucked hard and quick into Michael’s ass. It made sense now why he didn’t talk a lot during sex: no one would fucking understand but heroes apparently. Not that Michael was understanding much as he was plowed like a field, his brain turning to utter fluff. 

It was made worse by Haywood’s hand wrapping around his cock, moving as frantically as his hips were. Michael cried out, jerking in his grip and bearing down on him as he came. Haywood was not too far behind him, fucking him through his orgasm and coming deep inside him. He groaned, bracing himself on the desk as he slumped over Michael, heaving in harsh breaths.

“Gonna make it, old man?” Michael grunted around his own panting.

“Fuck off,” Haywood laughed breathlessly.

Michael laughed with him. _Fuck, I needed that._

~

Once Axial and Jeremy were mostly recovered, Michael found himself called into Ramsey’s office. He felt like he was in school again, in the principal’s office for his shenanigans. He shifted nervously as Ramsey sat forward, giving him his undivided attention. _Oh boy._

“I didn’t mean to...” Michael mumbled, “I mean, I gave him chocolate and he just-“

“Did Ryan do anything to you when he bit you?” Ramsey interrupted.

Michael looked at him in surprise.

“Er, what?” He grunted.

“Did Ryan sexually assault you when he drank your blood?” Ramsey clarified bluntly.

“Uh, no?” Michael offered uncertainly, “I mean he did touch me, but we talked about it before. And he double checked during.”

“And as far as you know, Dooley was willing?” Ramsey pressed.

“Yes, completely,” Michael confirmed.

“Let me see the wound,” Ramsey instructed.

Michael pulled his collar aside and Ramsey squinted at the puncture marks.

“Alright, if you start getting cold chills, lowered heart rate, a persistent cough, or any troubles with bodily functions, let me know,” Ramsey muttered, “You _shouldn’t_ turn, but if you start to, we need to address it right away.”

“Oh, uh, y-yes, sir,” Michael agreed.

Ramsey crossed his arms.

“Now tell me about Dooley,” he ordered.

“Well, I, uh, tried to cheer him up by giving him chocolate,” Michael explained, “Then he just undid my pants and started telling me I was fucking cute and sucked my dick like it was the most normal fucking thing on the planet.”

“And then?” Ramsey prompted.

“Then he got with Haywood and I was worried, so I dragged him off to talk about it and he fucking jerked me off,” Michael answered, “Then I...started getting...attached. I kept fucking telling myself to cut it out, that it was wrong, but I...”

_Was so fucking lonely..._

“I didn’t _want_ to stop.”

Ramsey regarded him quietly a moment.

“You can’t continue seeing him,” he spoke gently, “I would say you couldn’t see Haywood either, but actually I think the power imbalance is reversed on that front. Point is, you can’t see inmates, that’s not right.”

“I understand,” Michael assured him, “I...Are you going to fire me?”

“I fucking _should,”_ Ramsey snorted, “But no, I’m not. As long as you stop seeing him. Or you’re welcome to quit and I will send you off with a glowing recommendation.”

“Okay.”

Michael gripped his bicep nervously.

“And Haywood?” He prompted.

“You can see him out of view of the others,” Ramsey grunted, “And off the clock. I don’t like it, but technically he’s _my_ boss. Just be sure to let me know if he’s doing anything he shouldn’t be. And don’t fuck on Jack’s desk again, you’re going to traumatize her.”

“Right.”

“I know this sucks,” Ramsey added, sighing, “But I just can’t allow it.”

“I know,” Michael murmured.

“Alright, back to work,” Ramsey shooed him.

Michael shuffled out of the room, downcast. He knew it was coming, but still, giving up Jeremy was like giving up sunshine. He paused at the nearest window, looking forlornly out of it. His half-reflection caught his eye and he found himself touching the name tag with his name on it. He sighed. 

He should quit. He wouldn’t exactly get conjugal visits with Jeremy, but at least he could hug him, talk with him. Be as with him as you could with someone in prison. He closed his fist around the name tag. He’d have to give them both up physically, but it was better this way. He cared more about the fact he was already sort of in love with Jeremy and he could feel something starting with Haywood. His emotional connection to them was more important than the physical one. 

He set his shoulders and nodded at his reflection. Yes, he would quit and he would visit them as much as he could. Besides, he couldn’t be too lonely if they were in his heart. He blushed, covering his face. _Fuck, that was so fucking dumb!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tomorrow is the end as previously stated. Then idk what I’m doing next. I’m trying to get into The Witcher fandom, since several of my patron saints are fans and I have several stories started with that original crew I mentioned. But I don’t know if/when any of this stuff is going to be posted here on ao3. 🤷


	30. Chapter 30

** Seven Months In the Future **

Jeremy sighed as he sat beside Ryan, dropping his head on his shoulder. Ryan put his arm around him immediately.

“What is it, dulce meum?” He murmured.

“It’s officially been a month since Michael last visited,” Jeremy admitted.

“Ah, yes, that is unfortunate,” Ryan muttered.

“I...I am awake, right?” Jeremy asked uncertainly, looking up at him.

Ryan’s face was pained and worried.

“Yes, you are awake,” he assured him, “You’re not in a nightmare.”

Jeremy relaxed a bit, looking at his tray.

“I’ve...never been like this with people,” he mumbled, “Boyfriends. It’s...weird, loving people and missing them and stuff. I know it’s been months, but I’m still getting used to it.”

“That’s understandable,” Ryan answered, running his fingers through his hair, “I’m not exactly great at it myself.”

“You...think he’s okay?” Jeremy asked quietly, worry making his chest tight.

“I think you should ask him yourself,” Ryan mused.

Jeremy looked around, frowning at him. Ryan was smiling slyly at him, then his eyes flicked away. Jeremy followed his gaze and his heart lifted as a new transfer made his way over. 

“Got a spare spot?” Michael asked, smiling sheepishly.

Jeremy leapt up and slid over the table to grab him into a hug. 

“Why didn’t you tell me, you ass?!” He demanded.

“Wanted to surprise you,” Michael mumbled, putting his arm around him, “And Ry thought you might try to discourage it.”

“Of course I would!” Jeremy huffed, “You got yourself imprisoned for me! Are you stupid?!”

“Stupid in love,” Michael snorted, “You fucking asshole.”

Jeremy laughed and choked on tears. 

“Th-This is real??” He sobbed.

“Yes, you’re awake,” Michael assured him.

“You’re an idiot!” Jeremy accused.

“Yes, I am,” Michael agreed, “This is absolutely the fucking stupidest shit I’ve ever done, but...I can’t deny that I love you and this is what I want. Even if we break up, I will never regret chasing this feeling.”

“Idiot!” Jeremy cried.

“Yes, we established this,” Michael laughed, before quieting significantly, “You... _are_ happy to see me?”

”Of course!” Jeremy huffed.

“I am happy to see you too, puer,” Ryan murmured.

Jeremy pulled away from Michael.

“Did you do this?!” He demanded, “You use your influence to get him here??”

“Of course I did,” Ryan snorted, brushing curls off Michael’s forehead with a smile, “He’s my boy, I want him as close as possible.”

Michael blushed crimson and batted his hand away.

“Not in front of Jeremy!” He huffed. 

Ryan chuckled and the three of them moved around the table to sit. Michael sat in the middle while he told Jeremy how he got there and Ryan kept brushing his hand through his hair, a light smile on his face. He really cares about him and he missed him too. Surprisingly Michael didn’t even complain about it. Actually, it looked like he barely noticed it. Jeremy wondered if that’s how they were when he wasn’t around. 

He was struck again about how weird it was the ice king and fiery knight were so similar. How weird it was how much they liked each other. Maybe even loved, not that they would easily admit it. In fact, they’d probably bicker about it and Jeremy honestly wouldn’t have them any other way. He liked them how they were. He smiled fondly at them. Assholes that they were, he loved them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This the end again. I think this will likely by my last FAHC fic I post. 🤷 From now on I will likely only post my “original” crew and possibly I may write The Witcher fanfic. I’m not sure still. If you really want to be sure you see my work, consider going to @1stworldmutant and following the link in my profile to become a patron saint. ❤️  
> May your paths always stay lit, my lovely little stars~✨!


End file.
